


Fate/Romantic

by Boss_Lorgis



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 56,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boss_Lorgis/pseuds/Boss_Lorgis
Summary: Another time, in another place, a Holy Grail War is waged between seven masters. Louise Saint-Hermine, fated to be one of these masters, will quickly learn what one must sacrifice in order to win such a harsh contest. But the truth of the Grail War may be even more grim than she could ever imagine. An AU story where all of the Servants, and many other details, are drawn from the stories of Alexandre Dumas.





	1. The Sisters Saint-Hermine I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's note: I will try to keep a regular update schedule of every Tuesday, though it does sometimes roll over onto Wednesday. If there is ever a reason that an update will not happen on any given week I will try to post a message about it. This is my work that I have already been posting on FF so while the initial posting here will be quite lengthy, each weekly update will only be a single chapter part at a time. Thank you very much.
> 
> **Author's note: Romantic, in the case of the title of this work, refers to the Romantic writing and art movement that thrived between 1770 and 1850. Though romance between people may certainly play a part in the proceedings, in this case the reference is specifically to the romantic stories written by Alexandre Dumas. 
> 
> With that in mind:
> 
> Mesdames, Messieurs, bonjour. Welcome to our tale of heroes, villains, victory, defeat, gallantry, and an overflowing desire to live.

Chapter 1.  
The Sisters Saint-Hermine

I.

“Right here will do fine driver.” Camille stretched her arm between the driver and where Louise was seated in the front passenger seat to point to the building coming up on the right. There was a tone of authority to her voice that Camille always used. No matter how calm the moment, or unfamiliar her surroundings, Camille always kept her composure, and spoke with a natural air of command. It was as if she was born to lead, and the way she had spent her childhood had tempered that natural instinct to perfection.

Louise was similar, but more in control of her emotions. Though she had spent her childhood alongside her adoptive sister learning everything required of a prospective head of the family, she had not made such assertive dominance an inseparable part of her being. She was content to let others do as they would please until the last moment when she would need to exert command over them. Perhaps that more subdued side of her came from not being born into the family. 

“I-I-I-don't see any parking Miss. Hrmmm, are you sure I can just park here?” The driver seemed to be having difficulty realizing that when Camille wanted something done, it was best to simply follow her instructions without question.

Camille's green eyes burned with a barely contained fury at being questioned, and she ran her hand through her short blonde hair as she always did when she was becoming annoyed. Perhaps the long trip was finally wearing her down, Louise had seen her this annoyed without such a catalyst plenty of times. “Perhaps you are to old and blind to see the clearly empty area of curb right there.” The last word was emphasized with an aggressive jab of Camille's finger toward the spot. “You're only going to be there a minute to drop us off. It will hardly inconvenience anyone. Now pull over you lackey.” Louise sighed to herself as Camille berated the driver. She always turned her head and tried to ignore it whenever Camille got caught up railing at someone whom she perceived as having dared doubt her. As the only daughters of an old; and illustrious mage family they were technically of a higher station than many, and Camille had very much internalized this fact.

The driver pulled over to the side of the street as much as he could. The few passers-by on the sidewalk paid the car no mind, though a few of the other drivers on the narrow road seemed less than pleased with the choice of parking made by the hapless driver. “Please wait here monsieur. My sister and I will retrieve our luggage from the back.” Louise tried to inject a tone of understanding into her words in an attempt to ask the driver to forgive her sister's behavior. He seemed to recognize the sentiment and nodded to her with a nervous smile.

She was a young woman of twenty-five, with Camille, the true daughter of the family being her elder by three years. Though Louise was ignorant of her birth family, her dark-sepia skin, black hair with it's tight curls, and prominent cheekbones showed she may owe her heritage to a Hausa bloodline from northern Nigeria. The adoptive daughter kept her long black hair tied back in a large braid, a thick white hairband, the same shade as her outfit, further accenting her dark locks. Camille by contrast had a pale, almost sunless, peach complexion that marked her out as a native born of their hometown of Gordes. That combined with her sharp angular facial features left no doubt as to her belonging to the Saint-Hermine bloodline. Her faded blonde hair was cut particularly short, with no hair hanging down the back at all, the only length being her bangs that naturally swept to the left and would sometimes just touch her green eyes. Both daughters wore the flat white uniform of the Saint-Hermine family, the high collar and buttoned sleeves feeling oppressive and choking on the neck and wrists respectively. No matter how much Louise had worn it she never got used to the feeling of limited mobility. The pants always felt like they would bust if she didn't stand completely straight up at all times, and the high boots had refused to break in, and constantly threatened to blister her heels. She had worn it when they departed to assuage her father, but now that they had safely arrived in Paris she planned to change out of the uniform at the first possible opportunity.

“Really Louise you're far too indulgent, even with your servant back home.” Camille slammed the trunk of the car closed after placing her luggage on the curb and dismissed the driver with a pompous wave of her hand. 

“Well, Luca has always been so good to me that there was no need to be haughty with her.” Thinking about her attendant made Louise begin to miss her terribly. She waved to the driver as he departed and he returned the gesture with an enthusiastic wave of his own hand through the open car window as he pulled away. “Besides dear sister, all the members of the household appreciate your real feelings for them.”

Camille blushed at the implication of her having any sort of softness for anyone. She quickly tried to change the subject. “Come along, I want to get to our room and get out of this awful uniform. Why the family had them designed this way I'll never know.”

Though the streets were relatively busy, there were very few foot-bound Parisians out and about on the gloomy February afternoon. With imposing clouds hung overhead, Louise was thankful that no rain was falling. She took in the scene around her, the few locals who they encountered waved or nodded friendly greetings to the two young women as they passed. Louise at first thought the myriad trees planted on the medians, sidewalks, and nearby traffic circle would clash with the multitude of tall buildings and other urban elements all around, however she found the natural and man-made elements of Paris had a way of flowing together and harmonizing in a very pleasing manner. The trees would draw the eye upward, and the old buildings in whose shadow they grew became the eye's focal point afterward. 

Louise had spent her entire life up to this point in Gordes Provence. The more rural town and its exclusively stone construction drew a hard contrast with Paris. She had spent her childhood staring out at the valley below from all the vantage points the sheer verticality of a town built up a stone hillside provided. Gordes had done everything it could to hold onto it's more traditional feel, complete with having all telephone and utility wires placed underground so as not to obscure the skyline. As a result, the comparatively more modernized, extra urban feeling of Paris had a slightly off-putting effect on her at first. She slowly started to notice small touches that made her feel more comfortable though. Small flower boxes in windows were plentiful enough, and the friendly aura of the small local businesses she passed hearkened her back to home. Both girls would have to adjust quickly to Paris, as their stay would be at least somewhat extended.


	2. The Sisters Saint-Hermine II

II.

Arriving at the Hotel de Cheval Peint, Camille was quick to reapply her self-perceived authority to great effect. A hotel wait staff, all of whom had never met the upstart mage, were amazingly quick to submit to her whims. Her confidence and authority were apparent and a powerful commodity that Louise was willing to benefit from. She found herself in a rather aloof cheery mood as the sisters settled into their room and changed out of the stuffy family uniforms. When she looked over and saw the perturbed look on her sister's face she felt a cloud come over the room, and her own mood started to turn detached. The entire journey to Paris had been jovial, and filled with the familiar banter the sisters usually enjoyed in each other's company. However, now that they had arrived at their destination, Camille and Louise would soon have to face the more somber reality of the imminent future. They had both tried to ignore it, Louise in daydreaming, Camille in distracting herself with abusing hapless service employees. Louise got up off the bed she had claimed as her own in the posh room they had reserved and stood next to Camille who was staring out the third-story window at the city below. Louise put her arms around her sibling's shoulders and hugged her reassuringly.

“Its not worth worrying over dear sister. It is as father wishes, and is a tried and true method of proving one's worth as a mage. Whatever fate awaits us at the end of this road, we will inevitably face together-”

“Even if together in opposition. You are my sister, and soon I must call you enemy.”

“Father taught us always to hold our status as mages first, our role as representatives of the Saint-Hermine family second, and our duty to ourselves third.” Louise released Camille and straightened her black knee length skirt in the mirror as she continued. “Everything else, every other relationship, every other desire, comes last.”

“You quote him so well.” Camille discarded the hat she was fiddling with onto the ornate armoire in the corner of the room, the antique carvings of which matched the rest of the elegant gaudy furniture in the room. “And you truly have no reservations about the combat to come? You have always been the soft one.” Camille was astonished to find Louise suddenly more composed than herself, and she launched biting accusations in an attempt to throw her sister off balance.

“Never mistake my empathy for others for weakness Cammy. I am completely at peace with what is to come and what I must do. Even with our... inescapable engagement.” the lies tasted awful in Louise's mouth, and she only hoped that her stuttered speech did not expose a lack of confidence in what she said to Camille. She had even less confidence now that Camille had admitted even she was distraught. The elder sister had always been the pillar of strength between them, and Louise felt a distinct loss of certainty at knowing she lacked the necessary tenacity as well.

“No matter.” Camille buttoned the violet vest she had settled on over her white blouse, smoothed out her tan capris, and unfolded her sunglasses. “Tomorrow we shall see the priest and everything will be set into motion whether I am prepared or not. Come along Louise. I suddenly find these apartments oppressive. Perhaps some food will help me put my thoughts in order.”

Louise grabbed her black jacket off the bed and, throwing it over her white button down shirt, rushed out the door after Camille. The idea of a meal and some coffee comforted her and promised a distraction from the somber feelings both of them were combating.


	3. The Sisters Saint-Hermine III

III.

Out on the streets of Paris and out of the constraints of the family uniform Louise found it a little easier to breathe and relax. She had not noticed the somewhat lower temperature when they had arrived and was now a little regretful of that she had not chosen a little differently on her attire. Her leather jacket that has always been her favorite, despite her father's misgivings about the garment, kept her warm enough, but she lamented not pairing some long socks or tights with the skirt. Camille's feelings on the chill, if she had any, were impossible to read between her sunglasses and usual unflappable demeanor. 

The girls had immediately found a small, friendly cafe at which they could sit and relax. The Bistro du Rue Bobillot had a history of being warm and welcoming. When Monsieur Biscarros had opened the cafe at the age of 27 he had known only how to bake the simplest of pastries and how to brew what he considered one of the best cups of coffee in the southern quarter of Paris. Fortunately for him the locals agreed and he was soon able to expand his 28 square meter hole in the wall into a full on bistro 3 times that size. As his shop grew so did his own personal repertoire of cakes, confections, and coffees. He was able to hire a cook by the name of Albert, and as a result, expanded the offerings of his bistro further. The sisters Saint-Hermine had arrived at his door at what was usually a much less busy time, which was fortunate for them as his busy hours were always uncomfortably crowded, and if a patron wanted a table it was a nigh-impossibility. Camille and Louis took a seat at one of the outside tables and Camille, making eye contact with Monsieur Biscarros, signaled that they would be needing menus and refreshments. 

Monsieur Biscarros was in his late fifties, and though the age showed in his features, his face also showed a man still beaming with pride and optimism. His shoulder length graying black hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail to keep it safely out of the way when he was baking. His apron, arms, and to an extent his wrinkled cheeks, all had differing amounts of flour present. When he started out in the baking business he had tried desperately to clean off the bothersome powder, but as the years went on he had resigned himself to its presence and stopped attempting to brush it off.

“Mademoiselles, welcome to my humble bistro. I hope today that I can treat you to something special to suit your palettes. I don't recognize you from around the neighborhood. Traveling from abroad perhaps?” Biscarros handed the ladies menus as he spoke. He had always prided himself on being able to remember a face, and at being able to make small talk with guests. 

“We are, in fact, good sir.” Louise replied. “My sister and I only just arrived in town.”

“Well you have a made a most excellent choice to sit and dine with me today. I think I can guess where you are from. If it does not offend.”

“Go right ahead sir.” Louise was curious to see how capable the baker's deductive abilities were. She was continuing to look at the excited owner as she absentmindedly set her purse on the ground next to her.

“I can tell right away that you are not from anywhere near Paris. This is your first time visiting my establishment, and if you lived close enough to visit the city even semi-regularly you would have already stopped in to eat with me. Next, your French is far to good, for you to be from out of the country, so you must at least be fellow countrywomen. How am I doing?”

“You have shown yourself to be quite capable monsieur.” Louise was enjoying Biscarros's little game and was eager to see how close he could guess.

“Well, even without all that I could have immediately guessed you are from Provence. It is no slight dear girl, but your accent is so strong and gives you away immediately.”

Louise had to giggle at this point, and even Camille smiled in spite of herself. “I suppose that, in hindsight, that would mark us out rather plainly. I do appreciate the build up though Monsieur.”

“Ah, but I am not finished. Provence is large and there are oh so many towns from which you could hail. I ask that you let me attempt the hardest part, and finish what I started.”

“Very well monsieur, you have my undivided attention. Though I warn you that I shall not be giving any more hints if I can help it.” 

“I've all the information I need right in front of me. You are both fashionable young women. Ladies of means, and quite possibly wealth, I gather all this simply from how well put together the both of you are. And you my dear, though I have heard little from your sister I have no doubt she is just as well-spoken. And if one has money, manners, means, and hails from Provence, well then they simply must be from-”

“Gordes.” Louise's head snapped around at the sound of the unknown person standing behind her. Camille and Biscarros's gazes were also immediately directed to the newcomer. The sad blue eyes staring out from his russet brown face clashed with the pleasant smile he presented to Louise. With one hand he straightened his short, slicked back black hair, and with the other he held out Louise's purse to her, the diamond cuff link and designer Swiss watch visible on his wrist. His sharp nose and prominent chin were accented perfectly by his light mustache and trimmed brows. An air of aristocracy permeated him; from the fitted black cotton turtleneck and the charcoal suit jacket, to the custom-made Italian leather dress shoes that he simply wore out and about, the man was clearly of the upper-crust, at least in appearance. Though he dressed in clothes made specifically for him, it looked as though they had been picked not by himself, but by another for him to wear.

“It seems your belongings had made their way out into the sidewalk. It would have been a terrible shame if someone less reputable happened upon them. Fortunately it was I who arrived first. Here you are mademoiselle.” The man accompanied his words by handing Louise's purse to her, his arm was confident, yet bizarrely stiff, as if the suit, though perfectly fitted to his body made him somewhat uncomfortable.

“I see we have a true gentleman in our company. You have all the manners a man could ask for. And a fortunate to match perhaps.” Biscarros let out a loud laugh to punctuate his compliment of the mystery man.

“A true gentleman would take care to introduce himself to a lady whom he has bothered to impose upon.” Camille injected venom into her words, the entire time never bothering to look from the menu, denying him even so much as a glance. Camille had always resented anyone who put up such a front of privilege and wealth, an irony that Louise had always noted.

“Oh, of course. Ha, oh, yes, how incredibly rude of me. I meant no imposition. Please, allow me to start over. I am Ali Bertuccio. I am recently arrived in Paris, and I hail from the south-west of the country. My family are, well, land owners of considerable note. I took over a portion of the family business and have come to Paris for some negotiations on expansion with old business partners.” Ali continuously paused and looked down as he gave the overlong introduction that seemed to make him feel as awkward as the speech itself was. Louise could not help but chuckle at the awkward fellow. His clearly rehearsed introduction, the clothes that must have been picked and bought for him by his wealthy parents, and his earnest manner made him feel very genuine. He had an innocence that she had not gotten to interact with much in her strict upbringing.

“I thank you for retrieving my purse for me Monsieur Bertuccio, and for the formal introduction my sister insisted on. I would be honored if, as way of thanks, you would join us for lunch.” Louise gestured to the seat between Camille and herself as she invited Ali to sit. “Unless of course you don't have the time, being busy as I'm sure you are.” Camille slapped her menu on the table as Louise continued to indulge the young man.

“Master Biscarros I do believe I have settled on lunch. The gruyere and prosciutto omelet will suit me, along with some of your, 'famous,' coffee.”

“An excellent choice madame. You shall not be disappointed. I made my name, nay, my whole bistro on that coffee. And you miss?” Biscarros said directing his attention to Louise. “Has anything by chance caught your eye?”

“Your tarte tropezienne sounds lovely monsieur. A cup of coffee for me as well.”

“And as I plan to take the young lady up on her offer, I think I would also enjoy a cup of your house brew.”

“Excellent!” Biscarros clapped his hands together to punctuate his excitement. “Shall I bring you a menu?”

“No that's alright, you seem to have an extensive selection of baked goods and pastries. Do you happen to have financiers in your repertoire?”

“Only the best that you will have in the whole region! I am giving the three of you quite a treat today. Master Biscarros is going to spoil you!” Scooping up the menus, the baker headed back to the kitchen with a huge smile on his face, beaming with a deep pride in his own work.

“ A lively character to be sure.” Ali fiddled with his chair as he watched Biscarros go. Louise noted the way he constantly seemed to be straightening his suit jacket as he sat. “I have introduced myself. Perhaps now I could receive the same consideration from you ladies.”

“Of course monsieur. This is my older sister Camille, and I am Louise Sain-” Here Camille suddenly cut her off.

“Camille and Louise suits us just fine. Monsieur Bertuccio has no reason to pry and so will be satisfied with that.” Louise tried to understand the aggression in Camille's behavior, but failed to find an explanation in her sister's eyes.

“Completely satisfied. And please, I am also happy to set formality aside, you may call me Ali. I can understand the need to travel incognito. I have an acquaintance who has always insisted on it. I can't really understand his thinking. Though occasionally we must sometimes keep to ourselves, I cannot understand the point of traveling to places and meeting others if we cannot connect as two people who now know each other in a truly personal and intimate manner.”

“A very deep manner of conversation to have upon a first meeting don't you think Ali?” Biscarros had returned with coffee at this point and Louise sipped at hers as she questioned the young man.

“Not at all. You are both clearly intelligent young women, who are not intimidated by a simple clerk like myself or by more meaningful conversation. I would dare say that, knowing what I do about you, though that may be little and simply things that I gleaned from Master Biscarros's own little guessing game, I can safely assume you would likely best me in the arena of direct and pointed conversation. You are ladies of culture, and of a truly privileged upbringing, so I can safely trust myself to skip the frivolities of small talk and the weather while sharing your time you have been so gracious to grant me. And, as it has been pointed out, you are attempting to avoid much undo attention while you are abroad, so it would only be polite of me at this juncture to avoid questions or topics that pry to much into your personal lives.” The entire time Ali spoke he nervously fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket or pulled at the high collar of his sweater. 

“Bravo monsieur. I do believe I have underestimated you. You have a far more advanced philosophy than I gave you credit for. In that case I will follow your original line of conversation with an admission of my own. This is my first time leaving Provence, my first time even being much further than a few towns over from our home in Gordes, so I have little in the way of experience when it comes to meeting new people and forming bonds and relationships with strangers whom I have met while traveling. I can promise you though that it was absolutely my intention to make new acquaintances while away from home and I hope that many of those are quick to become close, personal relationships.” Louise offered a pleasant smile to emphasize the kind, honest manner she was trying to carry with her words.

“Vagaries. But telling nonetheless. I appreciate your willingness to be honest with me to the extent you are able.” Ali paused, waiting to see if Camille was going to interject again here, but she was pretending to flip through a small paperback she kept in her purse as she listened intently to the conversation in case she needed to interject, without being an active participant. “I dare say there is likely to be some sort of profit gained in your trip here. And I would go further to say that you have some very particular people in mind for the acquaintances you plan to make and don't plan to give that part to chance.”

“I would say you are quite correct. However despite that, it would seem that chance has been kind enough to grant me a meeting most unplanned for here today.” Here Louise raised her coffee to Ali in acknowledgment. Ali returned the gesture with his own beverage.

“Chance sometimes has far less to do with things than we think madame.” At these ominous words Biscarros reappeared, his arms laden with food. Before Louise could question Ali any further, the patissier was demanding everyone's attention as he always did when he arrived.

“I have promised you a delightful meal and it has arrived. No one will be disappointed I assure you. Is there anything else I can bring the young people?”

“Everything looks quite satisfactory monsieur thank you.” Though her words sounded dismissive Camille had a hungry, and eager look in her eyes that Biscarros immediately recognized. 

“Bahaha! In that case I leave you all to it. Remember the rules of Biscarros. Do not rush, savor every bite, and enjoy the food and company you can always find under my roof. I will return in some time to check in.” With a bow and a flourish he departed, leaving the trio to indulge in their lunch.

Suddenly faced with the fluffy and moist cake she had ordered Louise realized how hungry she was and soon forgot what she was going to ask Ali about. They all ate in relative silence, Louise lost in her tarte, Ali in his thoughts, and Camille barely holding herself back from devouring her omelet with all available speed. Had she only been in her sister's company Camille was never shy about indulging fully in any meal. However, etiquette took over when in the company of strangers and she was forced to dejectedly eat her meal in a more polite and refined manner.

As they finished, Biscarros returned with expert timing to gauge his guests satisfaction and distribute the checks. “I do not have to ask, as I know already the quality of my trade, but I will humor tradition. I trust everyone found the food to their satisfaction?”

“The tarte was delightful monsieur. And your coffee does indeed do your faith in it proud. From what I can tell monsieur Ali was quite taken with his financiers as well.” Ali blushed slightly at this, worried he had been less than delicate in his enjoyment of the pastries.

“I must say monsieur Biscarros, as excessive as your boasting may be, your fare truly manages to live up to the reputation you have built for yourself.” Camille sipped more of her coffee as she offered what was, for her, a warm and sincere compliment. Biscarros once again let out a hearty laugh.

“Excellent. Your praise is always welcome here. And though I am satisfied to be paid personally in your lovely sentiments, my staff has insisted lately on monetary payment. I have assumed two separate bills for the new friends?”

“Not necessary Master Biscarros.” Louise was caught off guard as Ali cut in so abruptly. “I will cover everything.” Here he stretched out a black credit card to the baker, as if to imply he would pay all the expense without so much as looking at what was owed.

“Unacceptable Monsieur Bertuccio. Though my younger sister has been kind enough to extend you every indulgence until now, I refuse to be put in the debt of a man who I barely know and have only just met.” Louise immediately recognized the family pride in Camille's commanding words. 

“I promise you madame no insult is meant. I am the one who imposed on your luncheon and simply wish to provide some sort of repayment of the abundant kindness I have found at your table.”

“And I am informing you that it is in the poorest of taste. You owe my sister nothing though she was kind enough to indulge you, and you certainly owe me no favors as I only tolerated your presence.” Ali was quite taken aback by this harsh treatment and seemed about to lose his temper when Biscarros interjected.

“Now this will not do, not in my business. Such relations should not settle on the excellent food you've just shared. Here, as proprietor I will insist on taking the gentleman's payment. He is repaying a good deed done to him, and I personally support a young man of standing paying for good treatment of two young ladies.” Camille scoffed at this outdated mindset and shot up out of her seat. Throwing her napkin down on the table she turned to Louise.

“Do as you will. Louise! Come along, I need a walk to clear my head, and to put space between myself and these antiquated 'gentlemen' as they say.” Louise got up to follow her sister. She gave Ali a look meant to communicate that, while she was grateful for the intended favor, she had to agree with her sister on not favoring the manner in which it was carried out. Ali had a look that displayed both his confusion and hurt sensibilities, but also a feeling of understanding. He offered an awkward wave to Louise as she parted, and then continued to exchange some words with Biscarros.

As the sisters put some distance between themselves and the bistro Camille's attitude seemed to improve. A small smile appeared on her lips as she picked up her step and turned toward Louise. “Well now that those unpleasant fellows are behind us, let us make the most of our remaining day. There is still much of Paris to see before nightfall.” Louise liked to hear the renewed optimism in her sister's voice and offered her own smile in return.


	4. The Sisters Saint-Hermine IV

IV.

As the sisters returned to their apartments later that night, Louise found the streets eerily quiet. A light rain was falling on the city, causing a strange haze to gather at the further reaches of her vision. The whole scene cast a strange melancholy on what had been a rather cheerful day exploring Paris.   
The evening streetlights caught the dark mist of the night in an unsettling manner. Louise tried to reassure herself that it was simply the feeling of her first night in a new and strange city, but was unable to put the uneasy feeling out of her mind. As her and Camille entered the hotel they found a much lighter staff than when they had set out earlier. A young man with short brown hair, pale complexion, and childish features was manning the front desk, though he seemed more absorbed in the paperback book he was flipping the pages of with one hand, as he propped his head up with the other. A young red headed woman, with freckled cheeks and soft features cleaning up the lobby was the only other employee they encountered besides, and much like the fellow at the desk, didn't seem too keen to pay the two young women much mind. Louise approached the desk and gave the young man a reserved, but friendly wave.  
“Good evening monsieur, my sister and I arrived earlier today, but have been out in town all day. I wanted to see if perhaps we had any missed calls or messages.”  
The young man looked up from his book with a somewhat curious expression. “No messages have arrived since my shift began madame. However I can check if anything came before my shift started. Name and room number?”  
“Saint-Hermine, room number 34.”  
“One moment.” He pushed himself back from the lowered part of the otherwise high reception desk and stepped into a small back room with a multitude of mail slots and some overloaded binders on a strained shelf. As she watched him shuffle through papers and boxes, Louise got a strange sensation and turned sharply around. The first thing she noticed was Camille staring out the glass of the front door with a deeply concerned look etched into her features. The condensation outside looked to be almost rolling by, and a strange energy charged the air with an electricity that put both sisters on edge. Even mages with less training than the Saint-Hermine siblings would be able to tell there was a strange magic in the air. Louise was not yet sure what it meant, but was convinced it had something to do with the reason for their visit.  
“Here we are mademoiselle.”Louise snapped out of the malaise she had momentarily fallen into and her head shot back around to face the receptionist. She must have had an oddly intense look on her face, because he made one that was equally confused back at her. “Looks like a.... um, letter arrived for you both at some, point, today. Uhm, are you alright Ms. Saint-Hermine?”  
Louise took the letter from his outstretched hand. “Yes monsieur. I must have had a few to many glasses of wine at dinner. I feel a bit off suddenly. Camille? Won't you help your dear little sister to bed?” Camille suddenly came out of her own distracted state as Louise called out to her. She looked abashedly between the receptionist and her sister for a moment before walking over to Louise.   
“I swear Louise you always get carried away whenever we visit somewhere new.” She gave the young man a quick once over, and after devoting his face to memory and checking his name-tag Camille put her sister's arm around her shoulder. “Excuse my sister Alan, she can be too jovial at times. Her propensity for over celebrating has clearly caught up with her. I'll escort her to our room. Thank you for your help.”  
As the sisters departed upstairs Alan looked to the cleaning lady with a dumbfounded expression. “Did those young ladies seem more distressed than drunk to you Eloise?” The young woman looked up from the rubbish she was scooping up off the floor and shook her head at her companion.  
“They were probably put off, as most woman are, by your melancholy. I know I always feel put out when I'm in your company.” She chuckled at her own jab at her coworker and returned to her work. Alan, clicking his tongue at his coworker, sat back down and continued to pour over his book. Outside, unnoticed by both of them, the light rain continued to swirl by and slowly thicken into a dense fog.  
Camille and Louise reached their room quickly enough, having given up the inebriated act as soon as they were out of sight of the front desk and strolled in through the door. Clicking on the lights they were greeted by a tidy and orderly room rather than the disarray they had left it in. “Can't think of many hotels I've stayed at that had midday room cleanings.” Louise mused over the odd situation as she sat on the bed to take off her shoes. Though more comfortable than the uniform boots, she was ready to get out of the tennis shoes after a long day walking the streets of Paris. “Did you see any address or name on the letter that was left for us?”  
Camille turned the envelope over in her hands. It was held closed with an old-fashioned wax seal. A signet of a goblet, with a snake in a ring shape above it was pressed into the red wax. “It simply says 'Saint-Hermine' on the front, I'm assuming to imply it is addressed to us.” She snapped the seal open and pulled a letter from within. She flipped the folded paper open and read it over several times before looking over to Louise. “It appears to be a message from our contact. Have a look.” Louise took the letter from Camille and read it over herself.

Dear Sisters Saint-Hermine,  
I am happy to hear of your safe arrival in Paris today. We are very quickly   
approaching the time when all preparations for the upcoming contest will   
need to be finished. I do not mean to rush, nor do I want to be putting any   
undo pressure on either of you. I will give a full explanation tomorrow   
at our meeting. Please come meet me at the Church of Saint-Pierre de Montrogue  
at 7:30 AM. I hope I will be able to answer any questions you may have,  
and hopefully have some of mine answered by you. It is always a pleasure  
to work with the Saint-Hermine family, and I have heard that both of  
you are as fine of examples of that exemplary family as any who have come  
before you. 

Best regards to you both,   
The Abbe Armand Gautier Busoni 

“He's not short on the compliments and formality is he?” Louise mused as she handed the letter back to Camille. “What do you think he meant by having his questions answered?”  
“It is likely that he is concerned about the fact that the family has sent two representatives. From what I understand it is an uncommon practice for this event. It matters not though. That is exactly what father armed us with our letters of introduction for. Those, our own skill, and the Saint-Hermine reputation will be more than enough to put this Abbe in his proper place.” Camille crumpled and tossed the letter into the trash bin on the other side of the room, and immediately began to undress, having already put the Abbe's words out of her mind. “If its all the same to you Louise I'm going to take the first turn with the shower.”  
“All fine Cammy. I think I will do a little reading and head to bed. I'll use the shower in the morning.” Louise was still turning over the Abbe Busoni's words in her head, searching for some hidden meaning, as she disregarded her sister.   
“Just make sure you give yourself enough time in the morning then. You have a tendency to linger in the shower. God knows what thoughts you get lost in in there, but we need to make sure we're timely for our appointment with the 'good' Father Busoni.” Camille noted the last bit with a biting tone.   
“I try to figure how a pedometer would calculate steps for an insect. So many extra legs, so many extra steps to account for.” Camille gave her sister a deadpan look before turning away shaking her head and stepping into the bath.


	5. The Sisters Saint-Hermine V

V.

Louise shot up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, her skin clammy and her pajamas clinging to her damp skin. She felt shaky, confused, and bizarrely wide awake. She looked over toward the other side of room where Camille's bed sat under the window. Camille was bolt upright in bed as well, and had a look of stoic concern on her face. She shook her head slowly at Louise as if to communicate that she wasn't sure what, but that something had suddenly pulled her out of a deep sleep also, and that it was likely whatever had disturbed Louise. The only illumination in the room was from a streetlight just outside the window, its beam distorted by the thick fog. Louise's first reaction was to reach for the light switch, but as she did Camille shook her head implying she thought ill of the idea. She cautiously and ever so quietly got out of bed and came over to Louise. In a hushed tone she said to Louise, “We felt the same thing when we came back here earlier tonight. Well I feel it again, only much stronger, and I know you feel it to. There is a foul magic in the air, and though I don't think it is necessarily looking for us, if it becomes aware of us it may very well prove hostile. I think the best course of action is to stay in here and take sleeping and watching in shifts, and if-” Her planning was interrupted by a strange sound out in the hallway. At first it sounded like labored, pained footsteps, however after a loud thump, it was replaced by the heavy sound of something being dragged awkwardly. 

Louise, whose attention had been pulled to the door of their room by the noises in the hall, slowly turned her head back around to face her sister. Camille's face was one of strained concentration as she desperately tried to process all the details of the situation and work out a plan while keeping her cool demeanor which she was only barely holding onto. Louise placed her hand on that of Camille's to calm and reassure her sister. “It will be alright Camille. I'm here with you. I'll take first watch, you get some more sleep.”

Camille looked anxiously at Louise. “We don't know what's going on out there. As the older sister it is my responsibility to-”

“It is your responsibility to be well rested and ready to handle our meeting with the churches' representative tomorrow. I've always been a bit better than you at combat magic. I'll take the guard for now. You can return the favor in a few hours when I need rest.”

“Very well.” Camille looked a little defeated. She didn't like admitting her own shortcomings in comparison to Louise, but in this case she couldn't endanger them both by being stubborn. “But you must wake me the moment you perceive even the slightest bit of danger.”

“Fair enough. Now go get some rest.” Camille crept back to her bed and laying on her side, her face turned to be trained on the door, shut her eyes in an attempt to fall back to sleep. After about fifteen minutes her efforts were successful. Louise in the meantime had busied herself with the opposite focus, and attempted to keep herself from dozing off. She pulled some catalytic stones from her bag on her nightstand and began charging them with destructive spells, that with a quick word and the flick of the wrist she could loose a powerful blast on any unwanted intruders. The entire time she made her preparations the disturbing noises continued out in the hallway. Slow, purposeful, heavy footfalls continued to sound on the wood floors just on the other side of the hotel room door. Louise tried to shut the noises out, to ignore the grating, incessant, cacophony that was painfully testing her patience. There would be moments where she would think it had ceased, but just as she had relaxed for a moment they would renew, which made it all the more nerve-wracking and unbearable.

Suddenly Louise was startled by a heavy thump on the door, as if some great weight was thrown against it. It was followed by a wet scraping noise which was accompanied by a low moan. A moist flopping sound happened afterward, and then the awkward dragging was heard again. A minute passed before Louise took another breath. Even then, her breaths were shallow and controlled, as though she were afraid that even the simple sound of breathing would be a horribly dangerous folly. Her nerves were reaching their end, and she almost lost herself, the temptation to fly out into the corridor and face whatever was out there, just to make something decisive happen, was almost overpowering. Their door was never disturbed again that night. The heavy footfalls and other sounds persisted though, a muffled moaning or low heavy speech occasionally piercing the still dark. Louise awoke Camille who attempted to analyze the situation carefully, her rested mind more cautious to act than Louise's own fried nerves.

“ No attempt has been made to force the door, or attack us. I'll take my watch but keep our position as one purely of defense. I won't antagonize whatever is out there unless I absolutely must. If morning comes and the sounds continue, we may have to alter our approach. Until then however I don't plan to engage an enemy that I know so little about. It is your turn to get some sleep little sister. Let the eldest handle this now.”

Louise lay down in Camille's bed so as to be further from the hallway and the source of the noise. She was terrified that she would be unable to sleep, being too distracted by the horrible, persistent clamor just beyond their door. Despite her concerns however, her exhausted body insisted that she rest, and before she realized it, she had slipped into a tortured, haunted sleep.


	6. The Abbe Busoni I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's note: Chapter 2 has arrived! Thank you everyone for sticking with me through chapter 1! Things are about to accelerate into more Grail War stuff pretty quick here. I look forward to your continued support.

Chapter 2.  
The Abbe Busoni

I.

Broken, difficult sleep was still sleep, and Louise awoke at least somewhat rested. It was just after six in the morning when Camille woke her younger sister. The winter sky was still quite dark outside the hotel room window, the lack of a proper morning sun stole some of Louise's relief at the night having passed. 

Camille indicated the door that lead out into the rest of the hotel. “The noises stopped maybe two hours ago. However I think I heard a new set of foot-steps on the level below us just a few minutes ago. I suggest we get dressed and prepare for the worst. I'm sorry sister, you may have to skip that shower.”

Louise sighed inwardly at the thought of having to possibly go the day in her current state. Disregarding her personal discomfort, more worrisome was that they were expected by the church representative, and any presentation less than perfect was unheard of for a Saint-Hermine. She saw few ways around it though and begrudgingly got herself dressed back in the stiff, white, family uniform. Just as the sisters were finished dressing they heard low foot-steps out in the hallway. A quick exchange of glances was all it took for both Saint-Hermine daughters to prep themselves and stand ready for combat. The unknown elements seemed to be working their way slowly towards the girl's room. Soon they could clearly hear the footfalls right outside their door. Louise raised her hand, ready to loose an explosive runestone on the threatening passageway. There was a light, but decisive knock, Louise's arm twitched, but just before she could fling the stones and obliterate the doorway someone spoke in a stern but controlled tone from the other side.

“This is the Paris Police. Is there anyone staying in this room? There has been an incident and we need to speak with any guests staying here. Please answer in the affirmative if there is anyone inside. This is the Paris Police. Please comply.”

Louise and Camille were both momentarily dumbstruck. Though neither was sure what to expect, something so mundane was not their first guess. Pocketing her runestones Louise nodded to Camille that she was ready.

“Hello officer. Yes there are two guests in this room. Myself and my younger sister.” Camille usually let her pride carry her away, but knew that cooperating with the police would be the easier option right now, especially considering her and Louise had so little information regarding the situation outside. “Please just instruct us in what you would like us to do.”

There was a murmur of exchanged words in the hallway before the officer replied. “Very good. I would ask that you please slowly approach your door, unlock it, say that you have done so and then step back ten paces from the door. I will count to five, and then open the door. Myself and another officer will enter the room after that. Please make no sudden moves as we come inside.”

“Understood. I am now following through with your instructions.” Camille wasn't sure what had happened that had the police so tense but she reassured herself that she would know soon enough. Camille went through the actions as described, and once she had stepped back, called out to the officer that they were ready.

“Very good.” The officer said. “Thank you for your compliance. We are now entering the room.” A few seconds later the door slowly opened and the face of a tense but composed officer appeared. Though not pointed at the sisters, he had a firearm very visible in his hands, clearly at the ready in case the interaction did not go as smoothly as it had. A female officer entered behind him, both of them taking up positions on either side of the hotel room door. “Good morning mesdames. I apologize for the rather uncouth manner of waking you today. Though, judging by your clothing, it would appear you were perhaps already up and making ready to head out, in which case it may be for the best we arrived before you left.”

“And why would that be monsieur?” Louise asked.

“You see, there is a rather startling and unsettling scene in the hallway just outside your room. Well... not your room specifically...” The officer who had been taking the lead trailed off as he looked nervously over his shoulder.

“Throughout most of the hallway actually.” The female officer finished for him.

“Yes. And it continues a bit downstairs. It is a crime-scene though, so despite how gruesome it may appear, we can only clean or cover so much of it.”

“Officer Brusse.” The female officer shot a look at her associate that seemed to be urging him to return to some as yet unspoken point.

“Of course. Yes, excuse me.” Holstering his pistol the officer continued. “If it's alright we were hoping you ladies might be able to answer some questions.”

“Of course officer.” Camille replied. “If there is any way we can be of service just ask. Whatever you need, both Louise and myself are at your disposal.” Louise nodded agreement to Camille's words. She was usually more comfortable letting her older sister take the lead in situations like this, though she couldn't recall many times they had to interact with the police growing up.

“Excellent. We appreciate your cooperation. The Juge d'Instruction is downstairs in the lobby and will want to interview you.” Once again the officer glanced nervously over his shoulder. “As I said earlier it is a bit, erm, grisly, in the hall. If either of you are of a weaker constitution we could perhaps provide some sort of eye covering for travel between here and the lobby.”

Both Camille and Louise were immediately suspicious of someone offering to blind them and take them to an unknown location, but neither showed it on their features.

“I think I speak for both Louise and myself when I say that will be unnecessary. Please, lead the way.”

The two officers exchanged nervous glances before leading the sisters out into the hallway. The officer had tried to emphasize the repulsive nature of the scene, and though she kept her composure, Louise could not help but be taken aback by the macabre scene laid out just outside their door. There were streaks of blood slathered across the walls all down the length of the hallway. A long, moist trail of gore wound its way down the whole length of the floor. Something that was bleeding profusely had been dragged from one end all the way to other, where it had then been pulled down the stairs, leaving pools of fluid on each step. The doors of several rooms had been forced open, and as the sisters passed, the scenes in the rooms just beyond the smashed entries were more brutal than that in the hallway. Officers in clean-suits were covering mutilated corpses with tarps and, in some of the more unfortunate cases, seemed to be gathering the hunks of flesh that had at one time been hotel guests. It was taking all of Louise's self-control to not react to the brutality on display. Looking to Camille for support, Louise was amazed that her sister seemed completely unfazed. Not even a single drop of sweat ran down her face, and her features were completely straight and composed. The party of four had to slowly and carefully descend the stairs, the pools of blood and fluid making it rather hazardous. 

When they reached the lobby the sisters found the scene less gruesome than upstairs, but just as violent. The glass front doors of the hotel were completely shattered from without. A quick effort to clean had clearly been made, but glass shrapnel still littered the lobby. The front desk was horribly brutalized, the computer, papers, and books were tossed all about, though the strangest damage was that it looked like blades and bludgeons of some kind had been taken to the furniture. Huge gashes and cuts covered the surface of the desk, and other parts of it were caved in, as though some massive weight had been smashed against it. A body lay behind the desk, obscured by a tarp placed over it by the police, a massive pool of blood had spread out from the corpse further than the cloth could cover. A shredded paperback lay next to the body, the cover caught Louise's attention momentarily, looking vaguely familiar.

Before she could give it more thought her attention was taken away by the male officer speaking. “Madame Badeaux, Officer Jimenez and myself have brought some more of the guests for you to interview.” A woman in a long black coat looked up from the wreckage on the floor she was bent over and gave Louise and Camille a quick once over, as the sisters did the same for her. Camille cleared her throat, straightened her clothes, and, somehow, tightened her posture more than it already was. Louise immediately recognized a familiar disposition in her sister. Around individuals like Juge Badeaux Camille always seemed to have a harder time putting on her aristocratic airs. Louise had seen her this way only a few times before. 

Juge d'Instruction Maria Badeaux was an observant, impatient, decisive, and tired woman. At thirty-three years old she was content with where she was in life, and bizarre, ridiculous cases like this one just complicated the reasonable and predictable life she had built for herself. Her very short, high cut black hair spoke to how she liked to keep things simple and orderly. Her clothing, a charcoal suit that was plain, but of high quality spoke to the reliable predictability that she liked. And her third cup of coffee clutched in her left hand spoke to how much more tiring this day was going to be. Maria Badeaux hated unnecessary complications. Looking at the two young women standing in the lobby, wearing some sort of strange aristocratic uniforms, both of them suspiciously unfazed by the brutality spread out around them, Maria had a sinking feeling this whole thing was going to be very complicated.

“And you are?” Juge Badeaux approached the sisters, her exhaustion making her more curt than she usually was.

Camille, already just a touch flush, stammered for a second. Louise did not falter and took the lead for her slightly flustered sister. “I am Louise Saint-Hermine, and this is my sister Camille Saint-Hermine. We are visiting Paris from Gordes in Provence. May I have your introduction?”

“My apologies. I'm a few interviews deep. Going through the formalities has happened a few too many times. I am Maria Badeaux, Juge d'Instruction for Paris. I've been placed in charge of the investigation for this... incident.” Maria emphasized her last word with a cursory glance around the lobby and the damage that now decorated it. “You're two of the few survivors we've found. Perhaps it was due to your room being on the far end of the upper floor, but whatever the reason I'm just relieved to find more people alive. So far no one has been able to shed any light on what happened here. I don't suppose either of you know anything do you?”

Louise and Camille hadn't had time to discuss anything like an alibi or cover story. They themselves had done no wrong, but they were both aware of the magical nature of the events that had transpired. However trying to explain the fact that magic of some kind had been involved, that they were both mages, and that that had played into their lack of alarm, let alone their ability to survive the night, was hardly the sort of thing that one said to a Juge d'Instruction and the police. Camille, having had a moment to regain her composure, spoke first while Louise was still deciding a course of action.

“My younger sister here awoke me during the night at one point complaining she had heard some sort of noise in the hallway and asked me to take a look. Of course after a long day of traveling I was in no mood to leave my bed. So I assured her that it was likely just a guest getting some ice or late night snacks from the lobby and insisted she go back to sleep.”

“Did you decide to check the hallway yourself?” Maria said, directly her scrutinizing gaze at Louise.

“My sister can be very persuasive in her, curtness, especially when she is tired. Rather than risk inviting her anger I decided my best course of action would be to follow her instructions and try to go back to sleep.”

“I see. When-abouts last night did this happen? Do you remember the time at all?”

“Before waking Camille I had glanced at the clock momentarily, I want to say it was maybe just after midnight.”

“That falls in line with when some of the other survivors reported hearing a disturbance. Is there anything else? Any other details you remember? Anything from last night?”

“Nothing comes immediately to mind Madame. I'm sorry.”

“Its alright,” Maria turned to Camille. “You said you had a long day of travel yesterday. What time did you arrive at the hotel last night?”

“We arrived in the afternoon around two. However after checking in here Louise and I went out to get some food and explore Paris a bit. It is our first time here after all.”

“Going from Gordes to Paris is a big change. Some sort of business on behalf of your parents? Or perhaps just a sight-seeing trip for the privileged sisters?”

“Business. Madame.” Camille said, careful to not let her pride be affected by the Juge's intentionally antagonistic choice of words. “We have business on behalf of our family, though my sister and I are acting as autonomous representatives, not on behalf of our father.” 

Camille was starting to lose her patience, the meeting with the abbe drawing closer was putting pressure on her and her body language was showing it. Juge Badeaux noticed right away.

“I have to ask these questions. This is clearly a murder investigation after all. Or perhaps you have something else that demands your time? Some pressing appointment?”

“As a matter of fact,” Louise stepped in, worried Camille's angered sensibilities could raise the Juge's suspicions. “We do have an appointment with an associate coming up soon. My sister is likely just distracted about the time.”

“Be that as it may I have fifteen dead people distracting me. Just one more question. You were out and about yesterday. What time did you arrive back at the hotel last night?”

“We arrived back here just after eight o'clock last night.”

“Very well. I trust you will both be in Paris for at least another few days.”

“Though the length of our stay is indefinite, my older sister and I should both be here for at least another three to four days.”

“You'll have to arrange new lodgings.” She said handing Louise a card with her office's information on it. “I ask that you call my office and leave them with the addresses of where you end up staying, so that I can find you if I have any more questions. The two officers who escorted you down will take you back up to gather your belongings. I hope I didn't keep you too long from your extremely important meeting.”

“We are grateful madame. I hope we were of some help to your investigation.” Louise accompanied the words with a light bowing motion before she and Camille turned to follow the officers back upstairs. Maria Badeaux flipped through her notes. The other surviving guests hadn't reported any disturbances until around two o'clock. She wasn't sure what Louise noticing something so much earlier meant, if anything, but she wasn't fully convinced that it was irrelevant.


	7. The Abbe Busoni II

II.

The Abbe Armand Gautier Busoni had only served the Holy Church in Paris for a few months now, but had lived almost the entirety of his life in the Abbe Senanque just outside Gordes. Despite Paris being a far cry from his old countryside home he had managed to adjust to the more urban lifestyle rather quickly. The tall, vaulted ceilings and long inviting nave of the Church of Saint-Pierre de Montrouge, where he now worked, made him feel as though he were somewhere sprawling and open and not the tight, somewhat claustrophobic quarters of the city where he now resided. Because of this he spent as little time at his apartments as possible, choosing to actually pass many nights at the church. Armand Busoni had been born into a faithful family. Faithful and poor. Poor and miserable. His mother left when he was only four, leaving his father to raise him alone. All the while that they struggled out in the country, just he and his father scraping by, he never lost his faith in God's guiding light. He always believed, always knew, that God would reward his and his father's faith. Then his father died. He died a wretched, painful death, with no one there to ease his suffering except the young Armand, now only ten. Armand traveled to the nearby abbe to ask the priests for nothing more than a proper grave for his deceased father. When the monks of the abbe comprehended Armand's situation they extended to him the two greatest favors he would ever receive. Not only did they give his father a rightful resting place, they also brought Busoni into their order, giving him a home and family like he had never known before. 

His faith had finally been rewarded. There he continued to study the lord's works. He fast became one of the most devoted of the monks at the abbe. When he was fifteen, members of the Holy Order came seeking anyone the abbe could offer to join their ranks as arbiters of the holy creed. Armand Busoni was quick to volunteer himself for whatever work God presented. He soon joined the Assembly of the Eighth Sacrament, and while helping them in their recovery of sacred artifacts became more aware of the world of magic and the Mage's Association. He at first lashed out at the heretical acts of mages, though his superiors tried to explain to him how necessary it was for them to work alongside each other he had trouble accepting the tolerance of those who he perceived as actively doing things that went against God's will. After decades of working with the Eighth Assembly he was presented with an opportunity by his superiors. A Holy Grail War was set to begin in Paris, and he, Armand Gautier Busoni, was chosen to be the Churches' representative and mediator. 

Now fifty-five years of age Armand had left his home in Gordes and come to Paris. His features were stern and hard, though his propensity for rarely smiling, or even emoting in general, had left his face relatively smooth and free of wrinkles. His short, silver hair showed in stark relief to the muted brown tone of his skin. Bushy gray eyebrows and a short but shaggy beard of the same color that followed his whole jawline gave him an even more imposing presence. As his time in the Eighth Assembly had facilitated the need to defend himself on many occasions the Abbe was a large and imposing figure of prominent musculature, the final touch of his intimidating figure.

From what he had studied regarding the Saint-Hermine family Armand was sure the sisters would both arrive perfectly on time for the scheduled meeting. Mages, and ones from especially lofty families like theirs, had ridiculously high expectations of their own etiquette and the respect they believed they were owed by those “below them.” And the Abbe Busoni was sure he was considered below the Saint-Hermines. However he held one measure of respect they could not ignore, and that was his position as the moderator of the Grail War. The daughters of Lord Saint-Hermine had no choice but to pay Armand all due recognition.

As Armand stood at the pulpit, reading some of his preferred verses to pass the time, the sound of the church doors opening, and of foot-steps directed purposefully towards him, caused him to look up. Seven twenty-nine in the AM. Perfectly on time, just as he had anticipated. Having already done his research the Abbe immediately recognized both Louise and Camille as they approached. Though, even without having preemptively memorized their faces he would have known he was in the presence of the Saint-Hermines. The uniforms were known to any with connections to France's mage community, and the sisters both possessed that indomitable spirit that was always exuded by members of the lineage. Armand was surprised to find that his esteem was more naturally drawn to the adopted sister than the true heir of the family. He figured that perhaps not being of the bloodline proper had caused her to train that much harder, and burgeoned her desire to earn the respect of others that much more. Whatever the cause of her natural dignity, it was working.

“The sisters Saint-Hermine I presume.” The Abbe Busoni immediately raised his arms in a warm welcome that was in complete contradiction of his stony, unmoving facial features. “I welcome you both to my humble sanctuary and of course to Paris itself. I trust you passed the night in our wonderful city well?”

“A pleasant day and a quiet night yes.” Camille had instructed Louise to not mention the last night's events to the Abbe, worried that it may leave them open to some ridicule or show of weakness to him at best, or at worst, if it had been some sort of preliminary test of the Grail War that he may judge their actions incorrect and possibly dismiss them. Either way, she was sure that the best idea was to let the Abbe lead the conversation. Following her own plan Camille continued, “Though it is notably different from our home in Gordes I find Paris quite pleasant. The metropolitan has an appeal all its own.”

“True.” The Abbe replied. “It has been most hospitable to me since coming here from near Gordes myself.”

“You lived in Provence monsieur?” Louise asked.

“Indeed. I spent the majority of my youth living among the monks of the Abbe Senanque.”

“Senanque has beautiful grounds. The lavender fields in bloom are picturesque. Father took us there once when we were young.” Camille added.

“Of course, of course. I am pleased you both have a high opinion of my childhood home. Though this is hardly the time for pleasant reminiscing. There are quite important matters to discuss.” Both sisters nodded agreement to the Abbe's words as he motioned for a young priest to close and lock the doors to the church. When he had completed the task another wave from Busoni's hand commanded the young man to leave the room. “By now I'm sure you have both realized I am the Abbe Armand Gautier Busoni. I am the Church's appointed mediator for this sixth Holy Grail War.”

“By your noble bearing and immediate recognition of who we are there could be no doubt as to your identity. We are honored by you monsieur.” Camille knew that though the Abbe may be of a lower standing, etiquette dictated she show him the utmost respect. She continued, “Though father had some vague advice he did not offer much in the way of information regarding the war. I'm sure however one of your knowledge and position could easily enlighten us.”

“Indeed.” The Abbe replied. “Among other things it is my duty as mediator to provide any requested information to the participants. Shall I start at the beginning?”

Camille and Louise both offered nervous nods in answer to Armand's question.

“The Holy Grail War is a ritual which serves to summon the Holy Grail, a divine instrument of such powerful magical capability it is said it has the ability to grant any wish. Every sixty years the seven masters are chosen, some by the mage families who founded the ritual, others by the Grail itself. As the Van Belmuier family were unable to provide a participant the Saint Hermine family's rather unorthodox, and some would say avaricious request to allow two participants was able to be granted. “ Armand paused here to gauge the sisters' reactions. Neither one seemed shaken by the implied slight at their family. “Once all seven masters are gathered they must summon their familiars, the heroic spirits who shall act as their Servants and fight alongside them in the War. Provided the Grail has recognized the potential you both possess it will lend you its power to aid you in summoning your Servant. Summon your familiar, form a pact with it, and you shall be granted your command seals as a symbol of your power over your servant.”

“Is there some significance to the command seals? I was under the impression they were simply a mark representing the completed contract.” Louise asked.

“Far from just being a symbol, they may be your greatest tool while fighting the other masters. As long as you possess them your servant cannot disobey you or bring you direct harm. You are granted three command spells which may be used as absolute orders to your servant. However, once all three are gone, the servant is no longer under any magic bending them to your will. If you must use command spells, be sure you are absolutely resolute in your decision.”

“Servants and seals are all important parts of the War of course, “ Camille cut in, “but victory good sir. Failure and success.”

“Victory.” The Abbe replied. “Victory is granted to the last standing master and servant pair. When the other six servants are defeated the grail shall appear to the winner and grant their desire. As for failure. Defeat comes swiftest to those who are killed. Though the loss of one's servant can also spell near defeat.”

“Near defeat monsieur?” Louise was curious about his choice of words.

“If you were to lose your servant, there still six others who thirst for victory are there not? The death of their masters would leave them without a mana source and therefore without a means of victory. If a master lacking a servant, approaches a servant lacking a master, a new contract can easily be forged. However, if the loss of a servant causes a master to lose all resolve, they may come here to the church, and claim sanctuary from the war until it is over. This is my last responsibility as the over seer of the Grail War.”

“I assure you monsieur you will not see one of the Saint-Hermine bloodline choosing to hide amongst your pews while a chance at victory still lingers.” Camille replied to the abbe's somewhat condescending tone with her usual air of confidence. “We were not gifted two places in the Holy Grail War. They have been rightfully earned.”

“If you are under the impression that I was calling the Saint-Hermine's honor into question I assure you madame that was never my intention. Honorable as you may be, and deserving as you and your sister are of your places you must admit it is a highly unorthodox situation. It is not my place to question a participant's right to compete, I am but a humble observer and mediator.”

“Indeed.” Camille clicked her tongue at the abbe to emphasize that she was still upset by the implication of his words. 

Louise, in an attempt to sooth over the harsh mood in the room tried to steer the conversation back to the particulars of the Grail War. “Have you any other advice for us Abbe? Anything regarding the summoning of our servants?”

“You are not the first masters whom I have spoken with. Four others have already paid their deference to the church. I will offer you this one piece of information. The only three of the seven servant classes not yet summoned are that of Rider, Caster, and Assassin. If any of those three are your desired servant I suggest you summon with haste.”

Louise made careful note of the information. Knowing the three knightly classes of Saber, Lancer, and Archer were already claimed made her uneasy as she was originally hoping to claim the sheer power of one of those, however she was not saddened at the loss of Berserker. She needed a servant who she could rely on to think for itself, and Berserkers were not know for their subtlety or autonomous intellect.

“I am grateful to you for all you have told me monsieur.” Camille turned to her sister after addressing the abbe. “And I'm sure my sister is grateful as well.”

Louise offered the abbe a bow before turning to face her sister. Camille's eyes held an intensity that Louise was not used to being on the receiving end of.

“My dear younger sister, now feels like a most appropriate time. Though you are my family, you will soon be my opponent, and victory can only belong to one individual.” Camille was visibly shaking as she delivered the challenge to Louise. “Though it pains me to do so, I must now count you among the others foes I will face. However, as is our family creed, I do so with honor. Two days. I grant you two days which I will make no effort to find you, track your movements, or make any attempts to defeat you. However, once those two days are over, you will be treated as nothing more than an obstacle between myself and the grail.”

Louise had to maintain herself if for no other reason, than to keep the abbe's opinion of the Saint-Hermine family high. She had known this moment was coming ever since father had explained what the Grail War was, but now that it was here, and she was having to look at her sister, the closest friend she had ever known, as an opponent, as someone she may have to kill, Louise was hard pressed to not let her emotions overflow. “I know that there will be no greater foe that I may face in the coming trials than the one who stands before me. I am honored that my most skilled foe is so gracious as to extend me such a courtesy, and I would be remiss to decline it. I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield Mademoiselle Saint-Hermine.”

Camille, not to be outdone by her sister, replied with the same grace and dignity. “I'm sure you will bring great honor to your family name. May we meet on even footing in the coming battle Mademoiselle Saint-Hermine.”

Each of the sisters placed their right hand across their chest to touch their left shoulder and offered a respectful bow to the other. The abbe was almost touched by the display of familial love on display before him. Sometimes, he thought to himself, mages really do live up to the haughty ideals they put on display.


	8. The Abbe Busoni III

III.

After saying their respectful goodbyes to the Abbe, Camille and Louise exited the church together. The air outside was immediately refreshing for both of them. Inside the church there had been a stifling sensation, and energy forcing them both ever closer to the aristocratic expectations that were forced on them by those who knew their family name. Now, out on the streets of Paris, they were just two people, two siblings, with no other expectations than those they had for each other as sisters.

“Camille I-” Louise tried to speak but was cut off by her sister.

“No. I'm sorry. It may be best... best to continue as we started with the Abbe. I- I have declared my position, and made my intentions known. Please. Don't rob me of my resolve.”

“You may have your resolution back in just a moment, but, my sister. Cammy. For just one more second let me remember you as my sister, and my greatest friend. I will dare not speak of what will be after this war ends, but I will promise this. Even if, WHEN I meet you on the field of combat it will be impossible to forget you as I know you. I love you my dear sister. Nothing that happens in the future, and nothing that father expects of us will change that. So please, let me at least remember you as my sister for just this one moment.”

“And when comes the part when you return to me my resolve to destroy you?” Camille kept her faced turned from Louise as she spoke, but Louise knew there were tears her older sister was just barely holding back.

“I will do so now. I love you, but for my honor as a mage and master, for the honor of the Saint-Hermine family, and for my honor as Louise, I vow to defeat you. I will be the victor in the Holy Grail War.” Louise was just barely holding back tears herself as she declared her intention to destroy her own sister.

“One last thing. Promise me, dear little sister,” Here Camille looked up, letting the tears freely run down her face as she spoke, “Promise no other will defeat you before I can face you in combat. Promise me, and I shall promise you the same.”

“I promise.”

“Then there is nothing more to say.” With these final words Camille swiftly turned and left her sister standing alone in front of the church.

After giving herself a moment to collect her emotions and recover herself she considered her current situation. She had the rest of the day as well as the following one to make her own preparations before Camille would go on the offensive against her. Besides the two of them there was still a third master who had yet to summon a servant, so it was likely aggression between masters would not begin completely just yet, but Louise could not be too cautious. Her first order of business was to obtain new lodgings. She was not horribly familiar with Paris and so decided on a simple method of choosing a new temporary home. Even if Camille had promised to not pursue her until later, Louise needed to start moving unpredictably now so as to evade her sister easier in the future. Two roads ran on either side of the church; the Avenue du Maine on its left, and the Avenue du General Leclerc on its right. A quick coin flip sent Louise down du Maine, and the first of her random selections to outwit her sister had sent her off.

After walking for around twenty minutes Louise stopped to get some food at a cafe she passed. One thing she liked about Paris so far was that no matter where she found herself, there usually was place to get some food not to far off. A bakery, restaurant, or cafe was always on hand to provide her with a respite from the bustling, somewhat overwhelming city around her. After eating she let herself wander the streets of Paris with no real direction in mind. She wanted to explore a bit and get the lay of the city. It would be impossible to learn the whole thing, but if she could dedicate a small portion of it to memory, she could set up her own territory to operate from and have some security when fighting in it.

Louise wandered for some time before she noticed the sun starting to get low and decided it would be best to find an inn of some sort before nightfall, the events of the night before still pestering at the back of her mind. She was walking, her luggage in tow down her latest random street, the Rue d'Assas, when she heard some peculiar noises. There was an alleyway to her right, a narrow path of old neglected concrete with an iron gate, that would normally bar entrance, hanging slightly ajar. Louise's curiosity got the better of her and she stopped to investigate the gate. There were no workers around who may have opened it, and no cars that seemed to have just recently passed through in either direction. She also noticed, on closer inspection, that the lock on the gate looked as though it had been forced. Though it was a matter of simple curiosity, Louise justified her probing as a matter of wanting to know everything about her new territory. Small things, like the sort of criminal activity that happened in the area, could give her ideas into how to conduct battles and set traps for her opponents without alerting the mundane authorities. Slipping through the opening Louise cautiously made her way down the alley, the tall buildings on all sides of the claustrophobic path making it seem darker than it was.

As she proceeded she once again heard the noise that had initially caught her attention. There was a heavy wet slap, and what sounded like hurried, irritated speech. As she got closer to a bend in the alleyway she could more clearly hear the sounds, the messy wet pulling apart, like someone carelessly butchering meat, and the loud incoherent curses being angrily spouted by someone.

“Bastard. Stupid, evil. Bastard. Monster-piece-of-trash! You have his face. His stupid, monster face. Monster. Stole it. Stole him. Bastard-face, his FACE!”

As Louise neared the turn the back of her left hand started to itch and burn slightly. She tried to scratch at it, assuming a mosquito or something had bit her, but she dared not divert her attention from what was ahead. She peeked around the corner to behold a grisly scene. A man, or at least the remains of once was a man, lay sprawled out on the ground, his torso a bleeding mess of puncture marks and stab wounds. A woman sat straddling his mutilated body and was aggressively mutilating his face with a large knife in one hand, and some sort of thin pick like tool in the other, all the while muttering her nonsensical objurgations. 

The woman could not have been older than thirty. Her chestnut brown hair fell in messy tangles down to her lightly pink, white shoulders which were exposed by the backless black dress she wore with matching black opera gloves. Her face was obscured by her messy hair and hunched posture, but more than any other details Louise's eyes were drawn to the massive tattoo that dominated the woman's exposed back. An intricate flower with swirling motifs gathered around the bottom of it were depicted in differing shades of black. By the long leaves on the stem, and close petals Louise guessed it was a tulip but couldn't be sure. 

Looking away from the scene on the ground Louise noticed another individual calmly seated on a nearby trashcan who seemed to be watching the scene play out with mild interest. They were a tall and somewhat thin, though well built, person wearing a rather outdated form of dress. They had a pair of black breeches that stopped just below the knee, with white socks covering the rest of the leg, and an over-shirt, its sleeves slashed near the shoulders was covered in intricate bronze and silver patterns. Again the face was obscured, but not by the angle of Louise's view. The individual had on their face a thick cage-like metal mask, that obscured everything except for the openings for the mouth and eyes. Thin, wispy, faded blonde hair could be seen slipping out of the bottom of the mask from the back.

“Really Master I do believe you have proved your point. The poor fool is dead. Has been for some time now.” The masked individual had a sharp, but polite manner of speech, a strong feminine voice that was trying to cautiously change the focus of the woman on top of the body.

“BASTARD. MONSTER. His horrid. Wretched. FACE!” The woman screamed back as a reply.

“Or spend some more time on this particular diversion I suppose.” As if the masked person's words were some sort of cue the woman bent down and tore a chunk of flesh from the face with her teeth then spat it out onto the ground in Louise's direction. As the bloody hunk of what was once a person bounced towards her, Louise was unable to stop herself from taking a small, but audible breath.

“Hwat's that?” The violent woman looked up from her victim towards were Louise was hidden. The young Saint-Hermine had already pulled herself back behind the corner before the murderer had looked over, but Louise could swear she could feel the killer's eyes on her. “Go.” She mumbled to the masked figure.

Louise didn't hear any movement. Certainly an individual running up the alleyway towards her would have made some sound. Some footsteps, an intake of breath, the sound of them landing in front of her if they had jumped over. But not a sound preceded the mask individual as they seemed to just appear in front of Louise. “Greetings mademoiselle. Lovely evening we're having today. I am honored to make your acquaintance.” Louise looked into the masked person's eyes, blue eyes that shook with a madness completely at odds with their owner's calm and polite speech. A pale hand raised up and placed itself on the wall between Louise and the way she had come up the alley. “Let's just wait a moment and see what my master has to say about your being here. Don't worry. She is far more understanding and patient with women than she tends to be with men.”

Louise heard the footsteps, slow and uneven, making their way towards her. The woman appeared from around the corner, her head hung low over her chest as she approached. She suddenly looked up, giving Louise her first look at the young woman's face. She had beautiful, but drawn features, not quite gaunt, but with prominent bone structure. Besides her shining emerald eyes, which shone with a sadness at odds with her violent manners and speech, the most striking feature was a massive scar around her left eye. It looked as though the flesh had been twisted and torn in a spiral motion before some attempt was made to twist it back the right way. 

“Well? Who is she? You know her? I don't know her. Who knows her? Does she know YOU Berserker?” Though her volume was lower than earlier, the woman's jerking, violent manner of speech remained unchanged.

“I'm afraid I cannot say I do master. However, judging by her luggage I'd say shes likely a tourist of some kind. How's that miss? A lost tourist? Does that sound like you?” The one in the mask continued to be calm and polite despite the very clearly tense air of the situation.

Louise was desperately trying to process a lot of information at once. Master? Berserker? Had she heard them correctly? If she had it could mean only one thing. She had managed to accidentally run into one of her enemies in the Grail War on her second day in Paris, before she had even summoned her servant. But it didn't add up. If the masked individual was the berserker class their manner was completely different from what Louise had come to expect of one. She could mull this over later. Louise's real problem right now was how to survive this situation. The duo in front of her clearly didn't know that she herself was a member of the Grail War, or even a mage for that matter. She had the element of surprise if she decided to set a fighting retreat. Alternatively she could try to play innocent and hope they would release her without conflict. Though judging by the body just around the corner Louise wasn't sure how likely that was.

“Hrng. I don't like her. Ruined my mood. Ruined my time. Don't like it at all. We're done here. Make her go away. Ruined my mood.” The blood stained woman waved her knife dismissively toward Louise as she directed her words to her masked companion.

Louise started an incantation under her breath and was about to pull a stone from her bag when she felt a strong grip on the back of her neck. The metal mask was suddenly very close to her right ear, and she could barely breath from the hand crushing the back of her throat, let alone finish the spell.

“Worry not miss. You're clearly visiting Paris on a journey and I've no intention of ending your travels now.” The masked person whispered to Louise. “She only told me to make you go away, not kill you. Though I don't envy the headache you'll likely have when you wake.”

Louise tried to say something, tried to lift her hand to fight back, but her assailant's free hand grabbed her right hand by the wrist immobilizing it. The figures before her suddenly started to appear as though they were very far away, fading down a black tunnel. Louise gave one last hollow gasp in an attempt to finish the spell she wanted to speak, and then fell into the darkness.


	9. The Photographer Grimaud I

Chapter 3.  
The Photographer Grimaud

I.

Grimaud Martin had lived the past twenty-five of his long fifty-two years in the same apartment on the Rue Servandoni in the Luxembourg neighborhood of Paris. In those many years he had many times traveled to the Luxembourg and its adjoining park to further his hobby, passion, and work in photography. Grimaud had started out in commission work, mainly weddings and work functions, but as he continued he found himself more and more bored with people and started to turn the focus of his work to nature. Animals always made interesting studies, when they would cooperate, but he found that plant-life was what he found truly fascinating. Tracking the progress of the same tree or flower over the course of several months, seeing the minute changes build up to extraordinary developments gave Grimaud great joy. Second to the joy was the present enough popularity of these case studies that he was able to make enough of a living that he could focus on just photography.

The Luxembourg park was Grimaud's favorite place to photograph, especially in the early mornings. There were fewer people milling about in the budding hours of the day, fewer loud conversations breaking his concentration, fewer bothersome pointless passerby. This made it less likely that his work would be interrupted by bystanders unwittingly walking through shots or, more bothersome yet, tourists asking him to take their picture. 

Today Grimaud was revisiting a patch of white heather whose progress he had been following for the past two months. There was photo showing at the park's orangerie soon and he was hoping to have this particular study finished in time to display. As he had turned down the gravel pathway towards what he often referred to as his “children” he had come upon a most curious sight. Lying across one of the oft neglected stone benches was a young woman her posture supine and limbs spread wide, was indicative more of her being left on the bench, and less of her having chosen the space for sleep. A large travel bag was tucked carefully up under the bench, perhaps to make it less tempting for someone who would feel compelled to steal it. Strangest of all, at least to a simple man like Grimaud, was the strange, almost uniform like outfit she wore. The clothes appeared to be of quality make, but from the military-like cut of the shirt, to the slender high boots, hardly seemed like the latest fashion. Grimaud Martin may have been an old man, and quite comfortable with the fact, but he was at least observant enough to know what was currently “en vogue.” The strange scene had piqued his interest and so, figuring it wouldn't hurt to make his children wait a little longer for their portraits, sat himself down next to the mystery woman. 

And so Grimaud had sat, for nearly an hour, waiting for the young mademoiselle to awaken. As he waited many possibilities and flights of fancy ran through his mind regarding her potential identity, though he disregarded the last one just as fast as the next appeared. Grimaud had an eye for what was in front of him in the real world, the here and now, but we was no story-teller, and so any idea he thought of; be it aristocrat, boarding school runaway, lost cosplayer, or princess even, felt like nothing more than nonsense to him, silly ideas to be ignored. Suddenly, as he was desperately trying to convince himself of the princess idea, she started to stir, letting out some tired confused mumbling and stretching her cold and sore limbs.

Louise, her head throbbing, her body painfully stiff and aching, was abruptly coming back from the abyss of unconsciousness. She slowly stretched her limbs, feeling them hanging out in the empty space that her mind was desperately trying to come back from. As she cracked open her eyes, the waking world came flooding back into her senses with the soft morning light as it poured into her eyes. Blinking back the kind illumination of the early morning, Louise desperately tried to decipher where she was. As she looked up from her lying down position most of her field of vision was dominated by a large tree stretching its branches out overhead. It was still that nebulous time between the end of winter and the beginning of spring, so though the wooden appendages were many, the leaves and buds were nearly nonexistent. Louise slowly turned her head to take in more of her surroundings, her equilibrium rebelling at any and all movement. As her eyes passed over the many bushes and shrubberies around her they soon came to rest on a kind old face smiling gently at her.

Though he himself was a kind and relaxed man, the years had not been kind to Grimaud as he had reached the later years of his life. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed the lines of his features, each ravine cutting another year, and another experience into his soft mahogany skin. Louise was drawn to his dark brown eyes, the scenery around the two of them reflected in the calming, understanding feelings behind his gaze. He wore clothes that showed he was more interested in comfort than anything, the thick tan vest over his black sweater that kept him warm in the cool morning, a flannel patterned drivers cap covered the thinning black hair on top of his head.

“Strange place for a nap madame.” Grimaud smiled comfortingly at Louise as he addressed her. “I don't know that I'd have picked the gardens of the Luxembourg to pass the night, but to each their own I suppose.”

“Ehhhmm...” Louise attempted to reply but was only able to let out a pained noise as her dry throat tried to emit the words. “I. Uhhmm. Do you have any, ergh, water?” Her voice was quiet and pained, but Grimaud understood.

“Ah of course, here you are.” With a light chuckle Grimaud handed a water bottle from his camera pack to the disoriented Louise, who immediately took a long, eager draw off it.

“Ahh. Many thanks monsieur. I am in your debt twice now.” Louise handed the bottle back as she spoke.

“Twice? How so miss?”

“The second time for the water to revitalize me, the first for watching over me.”

“I watched over you? Why do you have that impression of me?”

“Simple. When I awoke you were comfortably seated on the bench next to me and you had a look more of concern than curiosity. You could have passed me by, or only stayed around for a few minutes before giving up and leaving me to fend for myself upon waking. But you had clearly made a point of waiting for me to wake, waiting to see that I was alright. This level of kindness is not like what one should expect when visiting a foreign city.”

“A foreign city indeed. I thought I detected a Provencal accent. And I must admit you guess correctly of me. I would be a rather rude person were I to just leave a young lady to sleep in the park alone. A girl of means like you,” These words punctuated with a motion indicating the Saint-Hermine family uniform “would not need to sleep outdoors if she chose to. Clearly you have had some adventure last night.” Louise started to speak, but Grimaud silenced her with an outstretched hand. “An adventure who's details you are under no obligation to share with me. Your business is not yet mine.”

“You do not ask an explanation of me?” Louise was confused by the man's blase attitude about the whole situation.

“I do not even know your name, and I would be, once again, a rather rude person if I were to interrogate such a new acquaintance.”

“Oh! Of course. Introductions. My apologies monsieur. I am Louise Saint-Hermine. I have come from Gordes to Paris on family business.”

“And I am Grimaud Martin. Humble photographer of Paris who has lived far too many years in the same home in the Luxembourg neighborhood. There! Now we have been introduced, and from here on out, I may feel inclined to ask the business of my newest friend.”

“Monsieur?” Louise was becoming even more confused by Grimaud's behavior.

“Indeed. And the first thing for new friends to do, is to breakfast together.” Grimaud handed Louise the water bottle once more along with a small bag of crackers as he stood up. “You wait here my dear, I'll only be a minute as I check on my children and then we shall go get a real meal.”

“Children?” Louise sat, dumbstruck the water in one hand, the crackers in the other, as she watched Grimaud's retreating form head further into the park.


	10. The Photographer Grimaud II

II.

“So you got caught up in those strange events at de Cheval Peint eh? I understand the hotel is having a hard time filling the opening now. Awfully terrible thing that happened there. Good to see you came out of it alright though.” Grimaud handed a mug of coffee to Louise as he reacted to her story. After he had finished taking the newest progress photos of his white heather he had led the still weary Louise the few blocks back to his home. Number fourteen Rue Servandoni was a simple apartment, having at one time only been composed of a single living area and adjoining bedroom, had received by way of a staircase the apartment above it as an addition. The modifications had been made by the frivolous and impulsive owner who had lived there before Grimaud. Strangely enough, only a year after finishing such a grandiose remodel to his home, the owner had sold the now double-sized home to Grimaud for far less than it was worth. Grimaud himself, never one to question good fortune had lived perfectly contented with his lucky purchase.

As it was now the home had two bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and two different living areas. The kitchen accouterments had been removed from the upstairs half leading Grimaud to conduct his normal day-to-day business and the entertainment of his very rare guest in the lower quarters, while the upper area had been converted to a spacious work area for his photography. His home was almost exclusively decorated with framed portraits and landscapes from other photographers whom Grimaud was fond of or inspired by. Despite the many people represented in portraiture Louise had seen no one who she thought looked like they might be Grimaud's family. The furniture was rather spartan, as demanded of the somewhat limited space in the photographer's home. A plain wooden, round dining table with only two chairs acted as the line drawn between the kitchen and living space. The communal area itself was only a small red couch flanked by square glass end-tables, all situated on one wall opposite a short shelf with a modestly sized TV perched atop it. A slanted bookshelf ran perfectly matched with the angle of the stairs that led to the upper story.

Louise had started her recounting of the past two days with mostly factual information. She had mentioned her and Camille's arrival in Paris, their pleasant outing, the strange violent revelations of the next morning, and their interview with Juge Badeaux. From there though Louise had changed multiple details. She had relied on the murders at the hotel as her explanation for needing new lodgings, and had made an excuse about Camille being called back home to explain her sister's absence. From there she mentioned having met the strangers in the alleyway, but omitted the details that could be connected to the Grail War. “I have certainly passed an interesting first few days in Paris.”

“That is quite the understatement my dear.” Grimaud put the finishing touches on breakfast, a simple matter of eggs, sausage, and toast with brown sugar as he spoke. “If you were inclined to leave Paris with all due haste and never return I don't think any Parisian could blame you. I am envious of your sister for being recalled home and leaving you to deal with all the horror and intrigue our city has to offer on your own.”

“But at the same time I have been lucky to meet so many kind and interesting people.” Here Louise raised her mug to her host who returned the gesture with a smile before sitting down to breakfast. “Though I must admit, I find myself at a bit of a loss as to what to do next.” 

“Well that's simple enough. I have some more business to attend to today. Accompany me as I go out, it will help you to learn the area, and you may perhaps see a new lodging that suits your needs or tastes.”

“Monsieur I would be more than happy to assist you with your work. It is the least I can do to repay you for all the kindness you have shown me in just the few hours we have known each other.”

“Then a plan for the day is made. Now, eat up. We have a full day ahead of us.” Grimaud was quick to follow his own instructions and ate heartily of his breakfast. Louise required no encouragement herself. She had over the course of the morning become very aware of just how hungry her tired, battered body was. With their plates empty and their stomachs full the new friends made ready to set out for the day proper. Louise borrowed the upstairs bedroom, sparsely decorated even by the rest of the home's standards, to change into some clothing that was more comfortable for her to wear and less likely to earn her unwanted attention. Remembering the chill in the air from the first day she donned a pair of black slacks, accompanied by a maroon long sleeved button-up shirt and threw on her favorite jacket once more before heading out with Grimaud.

Louise had to master her patience while out with Grimaud. Not only had the old man taken his time with his daily tasks, but there were far more of them to complete than Louise had guessed. Between helping with his grocery shopping, buying photography supplies, talking with his old acquaintances, and more stops for more pictures at more locations than Louise had bothered to count, the day had slithered by at an infuriatingly slow pace. Yet as the pair walked back towards Grimaud's home the sun was already starting to lower itself towards the western horizon. The day had gone by slowly but it had gone by nonetheless.

Grimaud was making his last stop, dropping some developed photos off with a friend at the Église catholique Saint-Joseph-des-Carmes, a church adjoining the Catholic University of Paris while Louise waited outside in the courtyard. It was hardly a beautiful area, being nothing more than a flat enclosed space of dusty brown stonework, a single black steel gate acting as the only entrance from the street outside. However it was the nature of that confined space, and its high brick walls topped with pointed iron fences that gave it a sense of safety and comfort. Louise could feel the quiet isolation of the space, was reassured by it, and came to a resolution. It was the perfect spot for her to summon her servant. The end of the grace period Camille had afforded her was quickly drawing to an end, and the noose that was the inevitability of combat tightened around Louise's neck at the same pace. She would deliver Grimaud's things to his home, give some polite words of parting, secure her new lodgings, and later that night, in the silence of those hours after nightfall, but just before morning, she would return here and make her most important preparations.

As Louise stood like the sole stone sentinel of the church's yard, completely lost in her somber planning, Grimaud said his goodbyes to his acquaintance and crossed the space to his new companion. “Are you alright dear?”

“Pardon?” Louise, shook from her mental preparations by Grimuad's appearance, took a second to register he was addressing her. 

“You looked a little pale. And your features were like you'd been cut from the stone walls. Sorry if I put you through a long day after your ordeals yesterday.” Grimaud took his bag that Louise had been holding as he spoke.

“Oh, I am fine. Simply lost in thought and admiration of the church grounds.”

“It's nice to know that I'm not the only one. Call me an old-fashioned fellow, but I rather like the more Spartan styling of Saint-Joseph-des-Carmes. You know they say these uniquely open grounds were used for many a deadly duel between gentlemen over the years.”

“In a churchyard monsieur?” Louise was slightly alarmed at the idea of holy grounds being used for petty disputes between aristocrats with overblown senses of self-importance.

“Haha! Yes, you'd be surprised how pious they claimed to be back then, but how rarely their actions seemed to reflect that.” Grimaud led Louise through the narrow gateway back onto the street as he spoke. “Now my dear, perhaps you've settled on a place to spend the rest of your stay? We've passed numerous hotels and inns as I've given you the day's tour.”

“I have actually. When we first departed your home we passed the Appartement Saint-Sulpice. If it comes with your recommendation I figured on becoming your temporary neighbor.”

“Absolutely it carries my recommendation! More than that, I would just be happy to have you nearby. Once can never have too many friends in their neighborhood. I hope your business won't keep you from having the occasional meal with your new friend.”

“I foresee no such difficulties. In fact, let us meet for breakfast tomorrow, as a sign that I will not so quickly forget you.”

“An excellent idea.” A huge smile spread across Grimaud's face at the prospect. “I know a delightful cafe if you don't mind a short drive. All of the options at The Bistro du Rue Bobillot are fantastic. And the owner, Monsieur Biscarros never ceases to entertain me.”

Louise couldn't help but laugh remembering the eccentric patissier. “It sounds wonderful. I will meet you at your home at eight.” Louise found herself thinking how strange it was that she had so quickly become attached to the old man. But even if she did not fully understand her predilection towards him, she knew that despite the complications to come, she wanted to maintain her relation with him as long as she could. 

After arriving at Grimaud's home Louise parted ways with the elderly photographer to make her arrangements at the hotel. Her room was on the third floor, with a narrow balcony that overlooked her and Grimaud's shared street. The apartment was well equipped, but those amenities created a somewhat narrow and claustrophobic space. The stark white walls, white furniture, white drapes, and white linens did all they could to make it feel more open, but had the added effect of giving a sterile, snobbish feeling. The multiple door locks, whose old utilitarian style were at odds with the more modern dressing in the rest of the room, and the now closed off fireplace spoke to how the hotel was clearly an old building that had experienced some rather rushed attempts to modernize it.

Louise attempted to distract herself as best she could while waiting for the later hours to come. Having bought some groceries of her own while out with Grimaud she used the room's attached kitchen to prepare herself a small dinner. When her meal was finished she busied her anxious mind further by preparing all the materials she would need for the summoning. With her bag packed, her stomach full, and her thoughts still plagued by doubts, Louise checked the time and found there were still far more hours left than she'd have preferred. With nothing else left to occupy her time she lay down and let herself drift off into a sleep that provided little comfort for her apprehensive nerves.


	11. The Photographer Grimaud III

III.

As Louise slipped out into the silent streets of late night Paris she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on her. She looked towards Grimaud's window, the utter blackness of the sleeping home doing nothing to assure her he was not suspiciously watching her steal away into the night. She set a quick pace down the Rue Servandoni, wanting to turn the corner and put herself outside of view of the already familiar building.

The Rue de Vaugirard, the main street that separated the Luxembourg gardens from the homes and business just north of it, was eerily silent as Louise strode down its length towards her destination. She had gotten used to its busy and bustling foot traffic that morning, and was now unnerved by how empty it had become. Unnerving or not, that same seclusion was exactly what she needed right now. The fewer possible prying eyes or passerby the better. She reached the gate barring entry to the courtyard of Saint-Joseph-des-Carmes before she realized it, having crossed the five blocks at such a pace, and in such a mental haze as she was. Louise took a moment to collect her thoughts and calm herself. This was absolutely not the time to be unfocused and jittery. She mumbled a quick incantation, keeping her voice low in the oppressive darkness, and magical energy flowed to the soles of her feet. The added magic allowed her to easily hop the high barriers without difficulty and land safely and softly on the other side in the open stone courtyard. Louise paused only a moment to assure herself that she was the only person present before she set to work laying out the summoning circle.

Once the circle was drawn out, its wide circumference dominating the center of the courtyard, Louise carefully traced along its outer edge the important sigils she had noted down in her spellbook. Runes like them were generally used in summoning spells, but these specific symbols were designed to heighten the capabilities of a heroic spirit during summoning. The chalk she used was made from the ground down bones of chimeras the Saint-Hermine family bred specifically for the purpose of cultivating materials from their bodies. Louise then emptied the vial that contained a blend of blood from herself and the chimera whose bones had provided the chalk onto the family crest at the circle's center.

Louise stood outside the circle's outer edges, held her left hand aloft, and with everything else ready, spoke the incantation, just as she had practiced numerous times.

“I call to thee.  
Thy body, borne of my will.  
My fate, resting on thy power.  
If thou wilt bend to my will, my ambitions.  
Heed the Grail's call, and speak your answer.  
I swear before you.  
I will lead the path to victory.  
I will show the way to thou's wish.  
Thou shalt fight by my word.  
Though Master and Servant.  
We shall stand side by side.  
I call to the heavens.  
Clad in the three holy souls.  
Cast aside the shackles of fate.  
And come forth to me.  
Guardian of the Scales!”

Bright light exploded forth from the circle, every rune traced in ethereal blue energy. The blood covered crest in the center coruscated with white beams that shot towards the heavens. The different sources of light all coalesced into one blinding flash and then were gone. Louise, her hand still outstretched towards the circle blinked her vision back into focus after the radiant blast and looked upon her work. 

The first thing she saw were the command seals now etched into the back of her hand. A sweeping symbol, like one long drifting brushstroke at the center was the largest of the red three-part seal. A soft wing-like icon swept out from the left of the serpentine seal, with a crescent half moon shape cutting through the lower parts of both designs. As she looked past her outstretched hand Louise saw a figure in a low crouch, as if bowing to her, sitting at the center of the circle. He rose slowly, his right hand pressed to his breast, a large wide-brimmed hat set off with a sort of feather concealed his features momentarily before he raised his head further. 

He was a young man whose age could have been anywhere between twenty-two and thirty. His face was long and brown; high cheek bones, a sign of sagacity; the maxillary muscles enormously developed, an infallible sign by which a Gascon may always be detected. His eye open and intelligent, his nose was hooked, but finely chiseled. His black mustache stood out just enough against his dark complexion, and the ends of it were twisted into tight points from the owner constantly fussing with it and chewing on it when irritated. 

His dress was of another, now long passed era. Besides the wide-brimmed hat, over a white shirt he wore a blue tabard, the color of which had faded into a nameless shade between lees of wine and a heavenly azure, adorned with a white cross on the center. A thick blue cloak, of a similar faded shade with a red interior was draped across his shoulders. He wore brown breaches tucked into thick black boots that came to just over his knees, boots which, though were given great care by their owner, would reveal many years of great distress when closely inspected. A long rapier dangled at his hip from a leather baldric, and was complemented by a brace of pistols strapped to the front of his belt.

The man raised the gloved hand from his heart and extended it, palm up towards Louise. “Am I correct in my assumption that you are the one who has summoned me, and therefore to be my master?”

For a moment Louise was completely speechless, faced by what was undoubtedly a hero of some legend standing here before her. She had witnessed many spells before, both great and modest, but the presence of a Heroic Spirit had an awe-inspiring aura all its own. The man cocked his brow in confusion which acted as a cue to bring Louise back to her senses. “Yes. I am the one who has summoned you. I am Louise Bernyce Saint-Hermine. Second daughter of the Saint-Hermine family and your master in this Holy Grail War. The command seals upon my hand prove my mastery.”

“Then as I have a master, you have a servant. My class is Rider. And though it may not be the normal practice, as a true gentleman it would behoove me to offer a proper introduction. Though you will call me by class for the remainder of this War, know that I am the chevalier Monsieur d'Artagnan. I shall serve you with all my strength and loyalty Master Saint-Hermine.”


	12. The Chevalier d'Artagnan I

Chapter 4.  
The Chevalier d'Artagnan

I.

Many people are acquainted with the exploits of the chevalier d'Artagnan. His dangerous journeys in the service of the royal courts of Louis XIII and Louis XIV, and his powerful bond with his friends; Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, or as they are better known, The Three Musketeers, are known worldwide. To say that Louise was stunned to find she was in the presence of such a famously capable hero, let alone now the master of said man, would be an understatement. She was in complete awe. Chief among his many other traits, d'Artagnan was known as a nearly unbeatable duelist, having made his three famous acquaintances by challenging all of them to duels almost simultaneously. To have such a powerful combatant in her service caused Louise to feel both relief and, strangely, a sense of excitement. The prospect of the combat to come was finally becoming a reality to her, and despite feeling trepidation about the bloodshed during the buildup to the war, Louise now only felt a thrill at the chance to prove her capability as a mage of the Saint-Hermine household.

“I must say that your claim to being such a highborn mage surprises me. I would almost expect a more formal or perhaps ostentatious look to one of such a supposedly prestigious bloodline.” d'Artagnan had a curl to his lip as he spoke, as if suppressing a laugh he was sure would embarrass his new master.

Louise looked down and realized she was still wearing her day clothes from earlier, having, in her excitement for the summoning, forgotten to change back into the family uniform. The chevalier was also notorious for his roundabout loyalty when facing those he served, and though Louise was not an avid reader of fiction she at least knew this of him, and knew better than to feed into his games. 

“Prestigious? Maybe. But only a fool walks around wearing a sign of who they are and from where they hail for all their enemies to see and take advantage of. I could wear the livery of the Saint-Hermine family if I desired a massive target painted on me. However this is the first bit of strategy Rider. I have no reason to reveal that part of my character until I am ready to strike down my foe. Only then will they know the true authority of who they dared to face.”

“Indeed. I suppose that concealment of identities is a rather prominent aspect of these events. Very well. I will trust in your words that you are of the nobility you claim, and that such majesty is accompanied by capability.” Rider was impressed by Louise's resolve. He already had hopes to make a true leader of her.

“In any instance, and whenever you would like, servant, I will be happy to demonstrate.” Louise was not yet sure how much she could take Rider's words at face value, worried they may carry some secret meaning.

“I, for one, would be honored at the display of someone's might!” An arrogant but playful voice suddenly called out from the darkness. “Perhaps, oh and I do not mean to arrive so rudely and uninvited, but perhaps the servant present, Rider was it? Would be happy to demonstrate his capabilities for his lovely new master?” Louise and Rider both turned sharply at the words that so suddenly pierced the night air. As they searched for the source of the theatrical voice their eyes came to rest on a figure perched lithely atop the church's pointed roof. He was a young man of maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, his complexion dark and well loved by the coastal sun of southern Provence. His mouth was finely shaped, and his pearly teeth seemed to light his whole face whenever his smile showed them, which was quite often. He wore a black doublet decorated with sharp angular patterns of a deep jet color. His long, cloak of violet velvet hung down his side completely concealing his right arm. At his left hip was visible the intricately carved hilt of a long duelist's dagger.

Rider, never one to turn down what he perceived as a martial challenge, was quick to reply to the newcomer. “I am always prepared to show my strength. Especially if the one to whom I owe fealty commands it. However monsieur, it would be untoward of me to accept a formal challenge from one whom I do not know. You have had the luxury of overhearing my name. Might I have the honor of knowing yours?”

“Oh, of course! I have forgotten my manners twice now. Monsieur I owe you a great debt for being so patient with me, clumsy lout that I am. I must apologize beforehand for I am unable to provide my true full name, and therefore unable to give you a true gentleman's greeting, but I pray, oh and you do seem to be the understanding type, I pray you will accept a lowly servant's introduction as a fitting one.” The mystery man gave a low bow at these words to emphasize the true sincerity of his request.

“As a fellow gentleman I welcome any sort of introduction monsieur. Trust that I understand your circumstances as they are my own.” Rider bowed slightly in return, greatly enjoying being able to play the part of the gentleman he was, and so soon after being summoned.

“Rider. This is ridiculous.” Louise spoke softly, hoping that, even with his enhanced senses, the enemy servant would be unable to hear her. “He is not yet completely on his guard. While we have the advantage we should both attack before he can prepare himself for combat.”

“My master, you do me a great disservice as a gentleman to suggest such a thing. Our adversary has been kind enough to announce himself and even offer what I suspect is fast turning into a proper announcement of a duel. I will not allow such lowly tactics to stain my honor. If that is the avenue you desire to pursue that is your business. But if it is really your inclination to drag me into your underhanded tactics,” Rider paused and let a taunting look pass over his eye, “perhaps you will use a command seal to bend me to that direction.”

Louise couldn't believe her servant's behavior. Not only was he so early showing direct defiance of her orders, but he had the audacity to taunt out her most precious resource. The new master nearly lost herself to her emotions, but was able to reign them in just before she lost her temper. She was hoping she could sway Rider similarly. “Fine. Do as you will. I will consider this a show of your potential as a servant. Prove your worth to me.”

“Hahahah! You really are my master.” After this last address to Louise Rider turned back to face his opponent. “My good man, I ask your forgiveness for making you wait. I would be happy to accept whatever introduction you are able to offer, provided that is, that it is accompanied by a proper challenge.”

“Nothing more could be closer to my intentions. Ah yes, you are truly the type of gentleman I would seek out for a proper duel. Yes, truly exquisite. Monsieur! You may address me as Archer. I pray that this will serve as introduction enough for you. And now monsieur, my fated combatant, as your master was so desperate to take part I will allow her this one participation before it is combat for only you and I!” Before Rider could comprehend these final words, Archer lifter the arm wreathed in the violet cloak and pointed it at Louise. As he raised his hand a long barreled musket materialized out from under the flowing garment., and just as suddenly as it had appeared Archer loosed a crimson bolt of energy from its muzzle that exploded in a spectacular detonation where Louise was standing. Rider, awestruck, was hardly able to react to the destruction that had occurred so closely to his own person. However, before he could think her dead, the dust cleared and revealed Louise wreathed in the dark purple energy of her own magical barrier. 

“BAH-HA-HA-HA! Excellent! Most excellent indeed!” Archer let out a rambunctious laugh as he beheld his target completely unscathed. “I would hope for nothing less from a master of the Holy Grail War. Especially the master of such a fine gentleman.”

“I don't understand master. Even I, with a servant's reflexes, was unable to react to his shot.” Rider was still unsure if he believed Louise had survived the attack.

“It is simple my servant,” Louise let the barrier persist as she spoke, fearing a second shot from Archer. “If one plans a surprise maneuver, they must expect and be ready for one from their adversary. I would not be a great mage if I were not able to at least expect from my opponent what I myself am capable of.” Louise spoke with some bravado, but the truth was the barrier could only maybe withstand one more shot like that before collapsing entirely. She currently had to trust that Archer's promise of only a single attack was the truth.

“I apologize for my rather impulsive test of your capabilities. I promise that from this point forward I am good to my word. Monsieur Rider! En Garde!” Once more the musket let a crimson blast fly from it's barrel, but this time it was accompanied by a series of similar shots, each one aimed towards Rider. The declaration of combat had put the chevalier on his proper guard though, and he was able to nimbly weave his way through the destructive bolts raining down around him. He played with Archer for a moment in this fashion, gauging the power and accuracy of the ranger's attacks, before drawing one of the pistols from his belt and loosing a powerful musket ball of his own. The projectile forced Archer to pause just a moment in his onslaught and dodge the returned attack, and this pause was all Rider needed. His superhuman servant capabilities allowed him to launch himself the several stories height to where Archer was perched atop the church spire. His sword drawn, Rider drove the blade's tip straight towards the faltering Archer's chest. Archer was no slouch at close range though, and the impressive duelist dagger at his hip was for more than show. He rapidly drew it with his off-hand and parried away Rider's deadly attack. 

Rider, off balance and mid-air, was incapable of reacting to the muzzle now pointed firmly at his stomach. Archer loosed a red blast that pierced seamlessly through his combatant. So absorbed in his successful attack, he had neglected to remember the pistol Rider had fired earlier as its report rang out once more, the ball burying itself deeply in the shoulder of Archer's shooting arm. 

Archer was knocked backwards off his perch and tumbled down the church roof before landing in the courtyard below with a loud crunch. Rider, hitting the ground at the same time, managed to keep his footing, and landed with a painful groan, the wound in his stomach burning furiously as he moved.”I will allow you monsieur Archer to regain your footing before I continue our duel, as is only proper in a combat between gentlemen.” Rider attempted to inject a tone of bravado as he spoke to cover the pain in his voice.

Archer let out a pained cough as he attempted to raise himself off of the stonework. “Most gracious of you monsieur. I must say that I was impressed by your tactic back there. Allowing yourself to be wounded so that you could land a crippling blow on me and limit my attack capability, it is a dangerous gambit indeed. However I have some unfortunate news for you.”

“And what is that my good gentleman?” Rider couldn't help his nerves being rattled by the confidence in his opponent's words.

“A true marksman trains with both hands.” He smiled as he spoke, and with the flick of his wrists an eight-barreled pepperbox pistol flipped into each of his open hands. A barrage of small blasts erupted from the many muzzles of the small pistols. Rider had grown used to his adversary's surprise focused style by now and, despite his heavily bleeding wound, nimbly leaped into the air over the burning trail of destruction and brought himself down on top of Archer, his sword piercing deeply through the surprised rifleman's heart. Having dealt the deadly blow Rider quickly hopped away, fearing a final last gasp from the wounded duelist.

A stream of blood flowed from Archer's mouth as he coughed and gasped, staring with shock and confusion at the wound in his chest. “You are... quick. Monsieur.” He had been quite wordy before this point so Rider was rather shocked to not hear more from him.

“I am a Rider, speed is an important part of what I do.” 

“Ah. I see. You were known for your quickness... in life. That will be good to know. For next time.” With these pained words Archer doubled over and collapsed onto the ground in a heap.”

I don't know that there will be a next time my good adversary. I salute you though. It was a fine battle.” Rider raised his sword in salute of his fallen foe, keeping his back straight and proud despite the crippling wound. 

“Though he is known for being more boisterous than he can deliver, I assure you my partner will make good on his promise.” Yet another mystery voice called out from the shadows. Louise was growing tired of unwanted guests interrupting her summoning.

Rider looked over at his fallen opponent and saw that, instead of the sparkling light that usually signified a servant's death, the body of Archer erupted into an orange conflagration. The flames of rebirth burned his entire being down into nothing. Then a similar inferno blazed brightly atop the low flat roof on the right side of the churchyard and Archer's figure appeared as the flames swirled and burned away. Before it extinguished, the fire illuminated a figure, another servant, standing on the building. He was a man of an age only slightly more than his companion. A profusion of hair that was more red than brown poured down his shoulders from beneath his gray felt hat. His face had striking features, with its brilliant gray eyes cutting a contrast with his bleached white skin, and a light mustache perched just atop his supple lips. His dress was far more flamboyant than his companion's. His own doublet was a striking rose color, gold paisley patterns drawing the eye to his person. A brilliant black cloak hung around his shoulders, covering both his arms and hanging down to the immaculate boots of a similar shade. 

“Now now, my most beloved companion that was a rather poor show of your skills. It should be as when we first met each other, and you should put more effort into first impressions.” Though his words seemed a bit harsh, there was nothing but affection in the gaudy fellow's voice as he lectured Archer. 

Rider was dumbfounded to see the servant he had just spent so much effort defeating was now standing healthy and alive alongside an ally of some sort. Louise rushed over to her wounded servant and immediately deployed her magical barrier around them both.

“Oh mademoiselle I apologize. There will be no need for that. Your servant has pierced me through the heart and defeated me in a proper duel. It would be unbecoming of me to take advantage of the details of my defeat in such as manner.” Archer straightened himself out, testing all of his limbs, as if unsure that his resurrection had been completely successful.

“I must say monsieur Archer that given your behavior so far I am inclined to believe you. But should I extend that same confidence to your companion?” Louise was very worried. While still inexplicably excited by the combat, she was very aware that the situation for her and her brand new servant was quite grim.

“Fear not madame. As my fellow has just indicated, there shall be no further combat on our part tonight. You have bested Archer, and so Archer shall not engage you in battle.” The newcomer seemed to reserve his same reassuring tone for both his partner and Louise. 

“I have just one question monsieur. Before we part ways I must know. I had slain you. How is it then, that I find you in such a manner appearing unscathed?” Rider was bitter, but curious about what appeared to be an annulment of his victory.

The two gentlemen on the rooftop exchanged a quick look before the one in red nodded to his companion. “As you have bested me, yet been robbed of the true victory I shall at least make it a victory of knowledge for you. Yes, my worthy foe, I live. You have achieved the most coveted victory of a Holy Grail War that is learning one of the other servant's Noble Phantasm, a powerful ability marked by the deeds that made them famous.” Archer gesticulated wildly as he spoke, his actions matching his overblown speech patterns. “What you see before you, my partner and I, are both Archer. The fated friends, men who would rather face death than part with one another. As long as one lives, so too shall the other. Now, before I say more, as I may have already said too much, we two must depart. I bid you adieu, until next we meet.” With those words both marksmen assumed their spirit form and disappeared from sight.

Their foes gone, Louise dropped the barrier and Rider allowed himself to collapse to the ground. The master immediately turned around and started feeding magic energy into her servant to seal his wounds. “Quite the eventful summoning. Do you always bring trouble with you wherever you travel?” Louise tried to keep her tone light as she playfully chastised her servant.

“I do seem to have a habit of my enemies finding me no matter where I may be, or in what manner of preparedness I am.” Rider's tone was still strained as Louise healed the wound.

“That should be enough to stabilize you for now. Come along Rider. I need rest. We can attempt to work out our strategy tomorrow.”


	13. The Chevalier d'Artagnan II

II.

Back in her hotel room, Louise was suddenly crushed all once by the vice that was the myriad stresses swirling around her. The adrenaline wearing off allowed her body to realize how exhausted it was from expending so much mana performing the summoning, projecting her barrier, and healing Rider. As she collapsed onto the bed Louise became fully aware of how close she had come to dying. The exhilaration of just barely blocking Archer's attack in the moment was great, but at what cost would that thrill come in the future? She now had her first enemy that was fully aware of her presence other than Camille and- 

Camille. Louise had been trying to avoid thinking about her sister up until this point. But with everything else seeming to crash down on her at once, her sister became just one more problem that she was not sure how to solve. 

“These are lovely apartments, master.” Rider spoke to Louise as he materialized in the room, becoming visible from his spirit form. Though servants were unable to fight or interact with the world while in spirit form, it had the benefits of allowing faster travel, invisibility, and being far more mana efficient. “I must say accommodations have come a long way since my time. I lived in a space just over half this size. Yet here you are simply using it for just a few nights. Fantastic.”

“Glad you're so delighted.” Louise barely managed to groan the words out as she attempted to lift herself up off the bed. “I don't know how long this will serve as our base of operations. We may have to move around to avoid being found by our opponents.”

“Not a problem. I am no Caster and so I have no need of setting up a particular base of operations for long periods to bring victory. A true cavalier, especially a Rider, has no problem fighting on the move. Speaking of bringing victory, may I ask what my master's plan to accomplish such a thing may entail?”

Louise was knocked back onto the bed by the weight of Rider's question. What was her strategy? She had been so caught up in all the events leading up to this point, and so invested in just the simple act of summoning her servant that she had given little thought to the proceedings of the war itself. She turned her head to face Rider, half of it smothered in the bedding. “The optimal thing to do would be to gather intel on our opponent's before engaging with the intent of defeating them. A blind fight is an easy way to lose.”

“A basic concept, and almost obvious in its simplicity. Surely you have more thoughts than this in regards to the deadly struggle we are now engaged in.” Rider had a flat and serious tone to his voice. There was no amusement or the playful inquiring aspect his words usually held. Louise saw him slowly twirling his mustache, and occasionally biting at it anxiously. “When you said you were from an illustrious mage family you gave me the impression you were a deliberate magus who was stringently trained for the life-or-death competition you are now a part of, not some spoiled aristocrat playing at that which she is ill-prepared for. Because I assure you,” Rider narrowed his eyes at Louise as he strongly emphasized his words, “I spent too much of my original life in service to spoiled authority with no sense of priorities to have to do the same here.”

“I did not come to here to play at anything!” Louise was up off the bed now. Enraged at Rider's insinuation that she was nothing more than a overindulged brat who was in over her head.

“Then why are you here?!” Rider slammed his foot down for emphasis. He was now twisting his mustache wildly with agitation.

“I'm-,” Louise opened her mouth to speak but only silence came out. Why was she here? For what did she have to fight? What was worth risking her life for? The family crest? Louise had only come to Paris in the first place because father had ordered her and Camille to do it. The reality that she had no wish of her own for the grail, and no actual personal investment in the war was the heaviest blow so far, and it took everything she had to not let that weight collapse her into the bed once more. “I... I am here as a proud mage, proving my knowledge and strength in the mystic arts. I am here to uphold the honor of the Saint-Hermine name. Any reason I have for being here for myself comes after those responsibilities.”

“Fine words.” Rider released his abused mustache from his grasp. “Even if they are not your own. Get some rest, Master. There is much to do tomorrow.”

“That's all you have to say after that interrogation?” Louise was actually more upset he had not questioned her further.

“I am hardly satisfied, but badgering you further in your exhausted state will accomplish nothing. Make no mistake, this is far from over. I have much to ponder, though it pales in comparison to the thought I suggest you give to yourself.” Rider punctuated this statement by disappearing into his spirit form, his disappearance serving to prevent Louise from trying to pursue the topic further.

Louise was finally overcome both emotionally and physically and collapsed for the last time onto her bed, and fell asleep instantly.


	14. The Chevalier d'Artagnan III

III.

Louise started the following morning with a lengthy shower, hoping the solitary time would help her put her tumultuous thoughts in order. Rider's words from the night before still rang in her head. No matter how much it angered her she couldn't stop going over his questioning her motivation for entering the grail war. More infuriating still was the fact that she had yet to find an answer for him. As she stepped out of the washroom, absentmindedly drying her hair, she was startled to hear the voice of the still invisible Rider.

“Madame, though I am hardly one to complain about this particular habit of yours, perhaps it would be more fitting of you as a lady of such high standing, to consider that for the indefinite future I shall be sharing your company and your abode.”

Louise immediately turned around, slammed the bathroom door shut, and then swiftly reappeared wearing the white robe provided by the hotel.

“A shame.” Rider's tone implied he was tremendously enjoying Louise's embarrassment. “A shame. But understandable.”

“Perhaps make yourself visible so that I may be more aware of you in the future? It's rather inconvenient having to guess at where you are when I want to have a conversation.” Louise attempted to sway control of the exchange in her favor, hoping to move away from the subject of her embarrassment.

“This form is much less draining on your mana reserves. Wouldn't you prefer to eliminate that extra strain?”

“Paltry strain that it is, I hardly notice it.” Louise was not going to be bested so easily.

“Do you desire that I accompany you openly from now on? You are not concerned about an enemy seeing me and recognizing me for what I am?” Rider was just toying with Louise now. Poking and prodding, trying to find his master's limits.

“I will simply introduce you to anyone we encounter as a business associate. I've already used acting as a representative of the family for business purposes as an explanation multiple times. It would be consistent. Also perhaps our enemies would be less likely to recognize you for what you are if you were to dress a little less... outlandishly.” Louise emphasized this minor jab with a wave of her hand as she sat down to the newspaper and breakfast the hotel had left outside her door that morning. “ Besides, servants are not supposed to fight during the day anyway.”

“Would something like this be more appropriate for accompanying you during the day-to-day activities?” Rider materialized across the room wearing a new outfit that was much more in line with modern sensibilities. The white shirt with its puffy sleeves had been replaced by a more fitted button down, the color resembling a dark, aged tannat red wine. The tabard and cloak were gone, and in their place Rider layered his attire with a gray vest that looked well suited to the outfit before one noticed it was the type meant to worn under a suit jacket. Tight slacks that matched the vest and a pair of black dress shoes were a fitting replacement for his breeches and high boots. Louise was almost sad to see the wide-brimmed headpiece go, but the black homburg hat, a small sparrow's feather accenting its purple band, was likely to be less distracting. 

“I dare say you look like a responsible member of society now. Very good. Were I not afraid of inflating what seems to be an already overgrown ego I would compliment your ability to so quickly pick up on modern sensibilities.”

Rider chuckled a bit at Louise's backhanded endorsement. “Unfortunately it would not be my honor to claim. A servant is summoned with all the knowledge they will need to operate in the era they are called. As such I am familiar enough with things like computers, airplanes, and the contemporary fashions of the region.”

Louise was unsure how much mockery was in Rider's tone during his explanation but chose to ignore it for the time being. She was still a little too tired for another argument. “The reasoning aside you will make a fine business associate now.”

“You say you have had to use business as an explanation several times. May I ask how many people you have interacted with since arriving in Paris? It could be dangerous to make acquaintances of too many individuals during the war.” Rider was worried that Louise had been careless about introductions considering the need for a lower profile.

“No need for so much concern. I've not talked with anyone who I suspect of being particularly dangerous. The owner of the bistro we shall dine at today, a young man whom I shared a meal with, Grimaud who you will meet shortly, and the Juge d'Instructi-” Louise trailed off, suddenly remembering it had been several days and she had not called the Juge as instructed.

“A problem, my Master?” Rider raised an eyebrow and Louise's strange silence, worried she had remembered a dangerous detail.

“Nothing of note. Worry not Rider, I simply need to make a phone call before we set out today.”

“Have you though more on your actual strategy at all Master? I cannot help that my concerns are still quite abundant.” Rider's tone had dropped once more, the subject of Louise's dedication to the contest always serving to darken his brow.

“I have.” Louise paused a moment before continuing. “And though I do not yet have an answer for your most pressing question, I can at least offer my thoughts on what our immediate actions should be.”

“Can you now? By all means indulge me.” Rider couldn't help the tone of interest that had crept into his voice. Perhaps his master could prove capable yet.

“I know for sure that both the berserker servant and the archer servant- or I suppose servants would be more appropriate in this case, are active in our immediate area. This makes them our most pressing threat.” 

“What about your sister? Would she not be operating in this vicinity as well?” Rider was concerned about how Louise would handle the matter of Camille. Siblings being forced to fight was never a simple matter.

“Though I have no real proof of it, I believe Camille would likely have moved somewhere further from where her and I started. Like myself she would operate with caution in regard to the opponent who knows her best. She will likely distance herself from me and focus on taking out the other masters first.” Louise knew her sister's haughty bravado was mostly a front she used to conceal when she felt insecure. However she knew there was also an extremely capable mage worthy of all that clout. 

“Then why did you not distance yourself more from where the two of you started? If you think so much alike?”

“Simple. She made the declaration to part ways. It was her way of saying to me that she would be relocating. If we both attempted to move further out, we run the risk of moving to the same area.”

“Siblings are remarkable.” Rider was genuinely impressed by Louise's reasoning. She kept leading him back and forth in regards to her capability. He was having a hard time determining how adept his master really was, and was not sure how comfortable he was with that.”You are remarkable indeed. With Archer you were able to predict his predilection for surprise attacks, and with your sister you were able to infer from only a few shared words the strategy she had settled on. Yet you are incapable of deciding your own desire for the grail.”

“Meditating on the idiosyncrasies of combat, strategy, and psychology are quite different from wasting time ruminating on...” Louise let the words trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence and admit her inability to consider her own interests more often.

“On?” Rider bit at his mustache, his curiosity about what lay at the end of Louise's sentence irritating him slightly.

“On nothing. Now look at the time. I need to finish getting ready and make that call before we have to meet with Grimaud.” Louise shoved the conversation away as she discarded her newspaper on top of her half eaten breakfast.


	15. The Chevalier d'Artagnan IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, this chapter was particularly long and has set me back a bit schedule wise, so I will be taking an extra week between posts just between this update and the next. Thank you all for your understanding and patience.

IV.

“Yes could you please connect me to Mme. Badeaux? Yes. Yes I believe she is expecting a call from me, could you tell her it is Louise Saint-Hermine.” Louise waited on hold for a moment as the call was transferred. Suddenly there was a click and she heard the perpetually exhausted voice of the Juge on the other end.

“Juge d'Instruction Maria Badeaux. How may I help you?”

“Good morning Madame Juge this is Louise Saint-Hermine, we spoke a few days ago at The Hotel de Cheval Peint.” Louise decided to not mention Camille just in case her sister had gone deep into hiding for the sake of the grail war.

There was the sound of some papers shuffling around before Maria responded. “Ah yes one of the privileged Provence progeny. Nice of you to wait a few days to check in. This is a homicide investigation you realize. When a chief investigator of the court asks you to check in when you find new lodgings you know you should make it a first priority to call as instructed upon finding those new lodgings right?”

Louise remembered how prodding the Juge could be from their first meeting and was not about to fall for any of her jeers this time around either. “I do apologize Madame Juge, it actually took me a couple days to find permanent residence and I did not want to have to bother you with multiple location changes so many times in a row.”

“Well be that as it may I'm just glad you're checking in. Its not irregular for perpetrators of these types of crimes to attempt to find survivors so that they can silence them. Your sister already checked in with me yesterday and informed me that you would both be taking up separate residences. I'll need you to supply me with the address you are currently staying at.”

“Of course. One moment, I'm at the Appartement Saint-Sulpice but I have not memorized the number, one moment.” Louise was interested to hear that Camille had indeed checked in with the Juge and was almost tempted to ask for the address she had provided, but quickly realized it would be rather suspicious to be asking Mme. Badeaux for the location of her own sister. She finally located a piece of stationary with the hotel's address printed on it and read it off for the impatient Juge.

“Thank you Madame Saint-Hermine. Is there any other information you can provide? Anything you've remembered from that night? Anyone suspicious you've noticed?”

Louise immediately thought of the woman she had encountered in the alleyway, but the likelihood that she was connected to the grail war stopped Louise from mentioning her. “I apologize Mme. Juge, but I can't say anything comes directly to mind.”

“Well if you do think of anything feel free to call my office again. I'll be in touch.” Maria promptly hung up the phone before Louise could even reply. The young Saint-Hermine was motionless for a moment, surprised at the lack of manners exercised by an official of the courts. 

“Hardly complementary Mme. Juge.” Louise said to no one in particular.

“I see that members of the state haven't really changed in all these years.” Louise turned to see Rider with that already familiar, self-congratulatory grin plastered on his face.

“Would you not have counted amongst their number in your day?” 

“That fact hardly affects my comment.” Rider continued to smile crudely at Louise.

“Enough of this, I'm sure Grimaud is waiting for us.” Louise led the way out of the hotel room as she spoke, Rider grinning all the way out.

 

A short taxi ride found Louise and Rider outside the venue belonging to the patisserie with which she was already acquainted. Grimaud waved to Louise from the outdoor table at which he was seated and motioned for her to join him. Louise led the way over with Rider one or two steps behind.

“Good morning Louise. Nice to see you again so soon. And on such a fine day. Your luck from the days previous may be yet turning around.” Grimaud gave an energetic welcome to Louise, his caring, almost paternal feelings for her having clearly not diminished during their short time apart.

“Wonderful to see you again as well, Monsieur. I do hope that I am experiencing a reversal of fortune. Another example of it possibly being the truth is here, may I introduce Monsieur Planchet d'Fére. A business associate who will be assisting me with my work while I am here in Paris,” Louise and Rider had decided on the pseudonym during the taxi ride over, both of them agreeing that introducing someone as though their class name could pass as a real name was completely ridiculous. 

“An associate here to help you hmm?” Grimaud had a discerning, judgmental gaze that he was aiming at Rider as he spoke. “Some fine associate you are.”

“I beg your pardon monsieur?” Rider was taken aback by Grimaud's stern chastising tone.

“You are here in Paris to help the young lady. And yet after going through a traumatizing ordeal on her first night, having to sleep in the park on her second, and then being forced to select her own accommodations in a city she has never been for her third, you have the cheek to act as though your presence is of some particular service. Where was your assistance those first three nights?” Grimaud had only just met Rider, but the cover story that he and Louise were using had caused him to have a very poor opinion of the cavalier.

“Monsieur if I may.” Louise decided to chime in before any more damage could be done. “I had only contacted my associate last night after I checked into my hotel. If anyone is at fault for his delayed appearance it is I. Please hold no ill-will towards M. d'Fere.”

Grimaud shot another suspicious glance at Rider who was unable to respond with anything except a light shrug, a nervous smile, and some reassuring words. “It is true Monsieur. I regret that I was unable to be present during Mme. Saint-Hermine's earlier trials. But I assure you that though some of my knowledge of Paris may be a touch outdated, I will do everything possible to assist her with any difficulties to come.”

“Well if you were not called upon until recently I suppose it can not be helped. My dear Louise you really ought to be more willing to rely on others when you need to. There's no shame in accepting some help.” Grimaud shook his finger at Louise, but the kind smile on his face spoke to how concerned for her he was.

“I will try to keep that in mind Monsieur.” Louise started to sit as she spoke, Rider taking the seat next to her. Just as they had fully seated themselves and Grimaud was about to call for Biscarros, she heard someone make an exclamation of sorts on the street behind her. Louise turned around and saw a familiar face looking at her from the backseat window of a Renault Vel Satis. It was Ali, looking rather surprised to see Louise again. The luxury car didn't feel like something Ali had selected, and had the same feeling as every other part of him; he was extremely well off, but new to the privilege and unsure of how exactly one should display it without being too ostentatious. 

“I must say Mme. Saint-Hermine this is clearly a fated location for us.” Ali muttered some words to the driver of the vehicle after this greeting. A wave of his hand and the driver was circling around and opening the door to let aristocrat exit. “ I can say I am extremely surprised, but also incredibly pleased to see you again.” Ali was wearing a heavier jacket than he had been the first time Louise met him. The shadowy, navy blue designer wear was accompanied by thin white gloves and a long silver scarf draped over his shoulders, both touches more for appeal than warmth.

“M. Bertuccio. What a pleasant surprise indeed to see you again. I know we did not part on the best of terms last time, but I do hope you will accept my apology on my sister's behalf. She meant no harm and no insult against you. May I ask the occasion for this happy reunion?“

“No insult meant and none taken Madame. As to the circumstances of our reunion, it is nothing more than good fortune. I was driving with my associate and I felt a hunger start to take hold of me. I recognized the neighborhood we were in and asked the driver to bring us to The Bistro du Rue Bobillot. And as we pulled up I beheld you and your companions.”

Louise exchanged a quick look with Grimaud and Rider, both of whom understood her meaning and nodded to her approvingly. “In that case Monsieur, as your intention was to dine here, may I invite you to once again share a meal with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier Madame. Though-” Ali peered into the shadows of the parked vehicle, “I do not accept only my own behalf.”

“Indeed you mentioned you were with an associate. As they are a friend of yours, it is fully implied that they are invited as well.” Louise offered Ali a welcoming smile, trying her best to reassure the continually uncomfortable young man.

“A thousand thanks Mademoiselle.” Ali turned back towards the still open door of the car and offered his hand to his mysterious companion who was still hidden in the shadows of the vehicle's interior. “Do you desire to join us for lunch monsieur?”

A hand wearing a glove whose color was somewhere between pitch black and a deep azure emerged from the shadows and took Ali's open palm. The figure to whom the hand belonged did not so much emerge out of the gloom of the vehicle's interior as he seemed to command the shadows to disperse away from him. Before now Louise could only count her father amongst men who had an aura that on its own intimidated and oppressed her. The energy that Ali's companion exuded drew people towards him in awe, yet at the same time caused many to recoil away from the unknowable nature he embodied. He wore a suit that was both modern and fashionable, yet classical and outdated. The color was of the mossy walls of some long forgotten cellar. His shoulders were draped in a cape, the color of which matched his gloves. His face was beautiful and terrifying to behold. His age was unknowable, but his golden eyes held the experience of an eternity's suffering. His marble skin would be considered beautiful, even though the color was less natural, and looked more as if it had been drained from him, hidden from the sun and the world for too long. His hair, though healthy and well kept, had the same quality as his skin, in that the pigment was simply missing, having long since faded to a pale, flat silver. He was in every way contradictory to himself, and this just seemed to make him more appealing.

The mysterious man scanned the group before him quickly and imperceptibly. Grimaud, Rider, Louise, and even Biscarros who had appeared to supply more place settings, couldn't help but be visibly transfixed, even if only for a moment in Rider's case. Having noted his effect on everyone, the man smiled and spoke. “Good morning madame and monsieurs. It is with a most full and grateful heart that I appear before you. Ali simply insisted on stopping, and as my most precious friend has insisted on inviting me to dine with all of you, boorish soporific that I may be, I have no choice but to encumber you with my company.” He gave a low bow to conclude his overly humble introduction, letting his body hover in the lowered position just long enough to give his full intended effect before rising.

“May I introduce my companion, a recent friend, Lord Wilmore.” Ali gave a light bow towards Wilmore as he completed the introduction. “Come my friend, let us join the others to dine.” With an outstretched hand Ali offered for his partner to approach the table first, despite his being the unknown element present. 

At the table Ali took the seat right next to Louise, with Lord Wilmore on his left, putting the stranger next to Grimaud and directly across from Rider. Biscarros passed menus around to the gathered party and gave all present a warm smile. “It does Master Biscarros good to see so many gathered together to dine under his roof. Especially the young lady and young man who had parted with some tension last time. It is always good food that can bring people back together.” The patissier gave a warm smile to both Ali and Louise as he spoke. “And my old friend Grimaud. You do not come to visit as often as you ought to, and I finally find you back at my shop and you have already made friends with the newest arrivals in Paris.”

“Nothing more than a coincidence my old friend I assure you.” Grimaud offered Biscarros a shrug by way of an apology. “Fate has a strange way of working out I suppose.”

“Well, it is no more concern of mine. I will fetch coffee for all present? And when I return we shall see what has caught the eye of the hungry diners.”

“If I may be so brash on two counts monsieur.” Wilmore had the menu Biscarros had given him in his outstretched hand, as if to signal he was returning it to the host. “While a cup of coffee sounds excellent, especially as I expect it will be of the same divine quality that Ali had described to me, I must unfortunately decline the offer of your delicacies. My constitution is not what it once was and I am only able to partake of specially prepared meals. But as I am intruding on a meal shared by gathered friends, and am so rude as to not partake of the food myself, I must insist on paying for the whole thing. I also hope that by broaching the subject now we may be able to avoid the unpleasantness that drove a wedge between our shared acquaintances on their last meeting.”

“While as a true artisan it saddens me you are not able to sample my fare, I am at least happy you will be able to enjoy my coffee as it is my signature. On the subject of the payment, though I be master of the house, I do not know that I may rightfully answer for your offer.” Biscarros gave a nervous glance at Louise.

Louise was quick to assuage the patissier's concerns with her reply. “Despite how little Monsieur Wilmore thinks of himself, I find he is a thoughtful and amicable fellow. I also feel that he may be far more stubborn than he lets on and will therefore simply abide his offer now.” She then looked over to Grimaud as if to signal him to speak next.

“I am old, and poorer than I'd like. If the man wishes to empty his coffers to provide lunch for others I say let him.” Grimaud gave a smile to Wilmore and then Biscarros as if to say that the business was finished. 

“Excellent! Biscaorros shall return in short form. As always, when in The Bistro du Rue Bobillot savor the food and company you can only find under my roof.” 

As the baker departed Rider opened the conversation, determined to learn more about the mysterious Lord Wilmore. “You are exceptionally gracious monsieur. I've had few experiences in my time where one of my associates could afford to so brazenly provide for others like this, especially for those whom you have only just met.”

Lord Wilmore offered a kind smile in return. “I would be too humble if I were to say I am not a man of means. Though I have had... difficulties, in my life, mine is a time that has also experienced considerable windfalls. Or perhaps it was really just one instance of particularly good fortune.”

“I had gathered that Ali was from some state of privilege, is it a family connection that brings the two of you together?” Louise did not want to pry as aggressively as Rider had, but could not help the curiosity she had for the enigmatic fellow.

“No our families are not affiliated.” Ali said. “It was merely a stroke of good fortune that brought us together. Lord Wilmore has been so integral to my business dealings here in Paris that I hardly know what I would do without him now.”

“Ali exaggerates the effect I have had on him. He is an exceptionally capable young man who excels in his field, and I know he would be working wonders even without my minor contributions.” Biscarros returned with the coffee as Lord Wilmore danced around Ali's attempt at flattery. The conversation was interrupted momentarily as those who were eating placed their orders with the shops owner.

“Monetary assistance is not something to make light of in my opinion.” Rider sipped at his coffee as he spoke.

“I beg your pardon monsieur?” Ali had a puzzled look, as if trying to decide if he should be offended.

“Monsieur Planchet!” Louise reprimanded Rider in a hushed tone.

“I'm simply saying that Monsieur Wilmore's position is evident. He is acting as a monetary backing for Monsieur Bertuccio while he is conducting his business. It would explain why Ali feels so indebted to him and why he feels, rightfully so, that he has done little in the way of an actual service to the young man. There is no shame in his position, lord knows I wish I had had the good fortune to make such an auspicious acquaintance on my first arrival in Paris.” Rider peered over his coffee at Lord Wilmore, daring him to make the next move in what was fast becoming a verbal duel.

“You seem to have a strong opinion on the subject.” The next person to talk was unexpectedly Grimaud. “Do you consider those of privilege to be somehow opposed to yourself? Because I must warn you that your own close associate Mademoiselle Saint-Hermine is hardly of common birth.”

“I do not consider any amount of money to be a barrier between myself and others. I am what could be referred to as a self made man. I had to, in some cases literally, fight for what I have. But I still have it. I achieved rank and station higher than many others. My position was because I worked for it. Monsieur Wilmore himself spoke of windfalls, perhaps an inheritance of some sort. His station was achieved through his good fortune.” Rider gestured sternly but good-heartedly at the target of his words. “I'm not saying this is a comment on his character, or in anyway makes him less respectable. I am simply stating that it creates differences in perceptions of the world. People like him may buy meals for those whom they have just met, and procure the latest in luxury vehicles simply because it is newer than their current one whenever they like. But folks like you, Monsieur Grimaud and myself, we do wish we could buy all the lunches in the world for our friends, and on occasion we do. But we are always too aware of the cost when we do so.”

“You speak of classical inequality monsieur. I cannot say I blame you for having opinions on mine and Lord Wilmore's position.” Ali had an understanding look on his face that surprised Louise, sure as she was that he would have been upset by Rider's words. “My fortune, er that is to say, my family's fortune, was not always a secure thing. We have been exceptionally lucky as of recently. I can say that I fully sympathize with what you must have gone through Monsieur d'Fere. I know that life at the lower economical end can be difficult.”

“I am not here for anyone's sympathies, nor were my words intended to induce such feelings.” Rider was not the kind of person to take well what he perceived as being looked down on.

“Fourteen years in prison.” Lord Wilmore's sudden words, and their dry, heavy tone, produced a reaction from all present. Ali in particular had a look of surprise, and almost fear, on his face. “Fourteen years in prison for a crime I did not commit. I pleaded my case many times, and though I was just as many times dismissed, I did eventually leave my prison. And by the good grace of God and a dear friend I was able to find my fortune. Now you say, Monsieur d'Fere, that you are a self-made man. That you worked for all you have. I ask you this then.” Wilmore set his coffee down, softly, but with intention, and peered directly into Rider's eyes. “Did I not earn my fortune by suffering all those years in ignominy and isolation? Did I not deserve something for a decade-and-a-half of being wrongly tormented for a crime that was not my own? My efforts were not directly tied to earning my fortune. But surely something is deserved as a reward for all my anguish.”

The table was silent for some time, none knowing how to respond to Wilmore's disclosure of what was surely a painful subject for him. Rider, who was normally of quick wit and word, sipped at his coffee several times before finally responding. 

“I deeply regret the anguish you must have endured. And I regret that the justice system failed you so completely-”

“Do not speak to me of justice.” Lord Wilmore cut Rider off suddenly, a fire alight in his eyes as he spoke. “The only justice in this world is that which we make for ourselves.”

“Monsieur I am sorry to have offended your sensibilities. I have no way of knowing your past or the trials you have endured, but I assure you there is justice in this world, rare as its appearance may be. You yourself even spoke of God earlier. Does He not distribute justice where it is needed?”

“I at one time believed in that fact. But I waited. And I prayed. And I hoped.” Wilmore had his coffee cup back in his clutches, but this time his acumen and subtlety were both gone, and he seemed ready to crack the dish in his grasp. “And I received nothing from Him above in the form of justice. Perhaps it was His hand that helped guide my freedom. But justice? Righteous correction of ills? Those come from man's own creation.” 

“I daresay you speak of personal vendettas. Dangerous and selfish to tout such a concept as justice.” Rider was not convinced by Wilmore's pious tone.

“Vendetta is but another word for the dispensing of one's own justice. If the cause is righteous God will allow it to be dispensed.”

“The hypocrisy.” Rider felt as though he had caught the evasive Wilmore, and his bravado at the thought was evident in his words. “You denounce God as the bringer of true justice, and then breath his name in your words of vendetta.”

“Do not speak to me of hypocrisy!” Wilmore was suddenly more animated in an instant than he had been in all the time leading up to it. “I spoke of God as allowing a vendetta to come to completion. He allows all the ills of the world to be enacted upon the innocent. If He can allow those then surely he will allow a righteous man to enact his own righteous vengeance. God is no bringer of justice, but let it not be said that He would hamper one who brings it about by his own hand.”

Wilmore's final words acted as a conclusion to the subject at hand. Biscarros had returned with food and none present wished to create difficulty for their always joyous host. The breakfast continued in relative silence, with only a few words exchanged occasionally by Ali, Louise, and Grimaud. 

As the diners were all preparing to depart Ali pulled Louise aside, hoping to exchange a few private words with the young woman. “I apologize if Lord Wilmore has offended your associate at all. I do not wish for you to consider every occasion you spend in my company to be unpleasant. I must admit I do not fully understand all of Wilmore's eccentricities and was as surprised as you to see him react with so much fervor.”

“All men are their own Ali. I do not hold you responsible for the actions of another. I assure you that I hold you in no ill regard. Perhaps Monsieur d'Fere spoke out of turn and offended Wilmore. They are both grown men and able to work out whatever differences they have between them. We merely operate concurrently.”

With the young people so engaged with one another, and Grimaud making small talk with Biscarros considering their established affiliation, Rider found himself alone with the inscrutable Lord Wilmore. He was sure that Ali's intimidating companion had more to say, and was rarely one to let new acquaintances part ways with him on only adverse feelings toward him. More than that though, Rider knew there was something to discuss that only the two of them were aware of.

“Monsieur I hope you will accept some words of apology. A difference of life experiences has clearly colored our perceptions of things to be of opposing views on some aspects. For the sake of brokering peace, let me offer you my utmost apologies.” Rider gave a light bow to emphasize the implied sincerity of his words.

“I will tell you how this interaction will terminate.” Wilmore was stalk still, his arms at his side and lost in the abyssal depths of his cape. “In their line of sight, but not in range of hearing,” A slight inclination of his head directed his words and Rider's attention toward Louise and Ali, “we will behave as though making peace between us. I will then tell Ali what you and I both know to be true and he will not believe me. You will tell your master the same thing and depending on her character she may or may not believe you.” Rider's eyes hardened as Wilmore continued speaking. “But no matter what happens I cannot forgive your impudence and naivety. The grudge is now a personal one. You will be my favorite enemy to destroy.”

“Is there no way to mend the animosity between us Monsieur? I have no desire for any personal grievance in a contest such as this.”

“None.” The fire was back in Wilmore's eyes as he spoke. “You have made a true enemy of me. And you will know my righteous fury.”


	16. The Enemies Myriad I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience on the long break everyone. We should now be back on the standard schedule. Thank you for your continued support!

Chapter 5.  
The Enemies Myriad

I.

Armand Busoni had interacted with a number of eccentric individuals ever since he had assumed the position of Grail War mediator. However he was still somewhat unsure of how to handle the pair with whom he was now faced. A man was seated in the foremost pew of the assembly and hardly appeared to be paying the Abbe any mind. At least as far as Armand could perceive from the man's hidden features. He wore a thin black hooded sweatshirt that obscured the features of the upper half of his face, and kept his head tilted down enough that Armand had trouble seeing anything below the hood's shadow. The incredibly distressed black jeans he wore spoke to either a very difficult lifestyle, or very little care about personal appearance. His hands were nearly completely covered in stained and dirty hands wraps, but the Abbe could at least see the deep black of the man's fingertips, and the chipped bloody nails on the ends of them. Despite all the care the man whom had introduced himself as Mordaunt took to hide his appearance, the one thing he seemed to put little effort into hiding was the large survival knife at his hip. It was also the only visible thing on his person that appeared to have any effort given to its care. A heavy-looking button-up pouch on his other hip completed Mordaunt's appearance.

The servant who accompanied him was in almost every way his opposite. Where his posture was hunched and guarded she stood brazen and haughty. Her long golden hair fell in tight ringlets around her alabaster shoulders. Her dark lashes and brows stood in contrast to her light hair, and lent an even more striking azure color to the brilliantly beautiful eyes they framed. Her dress was ostentatious, to put it lightly. She wore a low-cut dark maroon dress, the top of its edges lined with an intricate white lace. The sleeves of the garment were separate and puffed out at the tops where they sat just below the shoulder. The bottom of the dress was fitted over a wider pannier, the resulting flat space on the front of the garment showcased multiple woven scenes of men being brutally killed by a woman who closely resembled its wearer. She held a small black and gold masquerade visor in her hand that she would occasionally lift to her dark red lips. Her beauty was striking, but a cautious enough eye could immediately sense the cruel murderous energy which it concealed. This violent intent was the one trait the master and servant shared.

The Abbe directed his words at the seated master as he attempted to converse with the threatening pair. “I appreciate your coming by as instructed. However you were more than welcome to visit before summoning your servant. There was no need to bring her here. Surely you don't want to risk another master coming by and encountering them.”

“There is hardly any need for such cautions my dear Abbe.” The servant's words dripped with honey and venom equally as she replied on her master's behalf. “My master was the last to summon. And I, the last to answer the call. I doubt there is much chance of another master making an appearance here now. Unless the fighting has already started in earnest without us. In which case a defeated master may be about to rush through the doors and demand sanctuary. Oh how lovely to encounter a fool so quickly defeated and ready for the sweet release we could offer.” She let out a slight chuckle at the implication of her own words, clearly entertained by the sound of her own voice. “Oh but of course the others would surely have not started fighting before we were all assembled. That would hardly be fair or fun of them. Would it master? Could you imagine? Someone not abiding the rules and spirit of the contest properly like that?”

Mordaunt's only reply was to raise his head slightly in his servants direction and make a sound that was likely a laugh of some sort. 

The Abbe was used to being the one testing the patience of others, and therefore was not easily taken in by the servant's prodding. “Well I assure you that as far as I am aware none of the other masters have begun combat yet. I will be sending messages to all involved informing them that the final servant is summoned and that the Holy Grail War will now commence. Before I do though I'm sure Monsieur Mordaunt must have some questions for me regarding the contest and its regulations.”

The servant was about to give a characteristically dismissive reply but stopped short at a raised hand from her master. “Fight at night. Only three command seals. Kill the other six masters. The Grail will appear. Simple.” His voice was deep and confident, and though baleful and intimidating- it was at the same time disarming.

“I suppose when put that bluntly one could regard it as simple. Well then, I thank you for your time Monsieur Mordaunt and-?” The Abbe offered an outstretched hand to the callous servant.

“Assassin. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Monsieur l'Abbe. I've known my share of priests in my day. Some of them quite... intimately.” She placed her outstretched fingers in his hand, angled for him to place a kiss on the back of hers, and with enough force to dig her pointed, black nails into his palm. Armand was not one to slight a lady, and though it brought him no amount of joy he placed a soft salute upon her flawless skin. “You are too kind Monsieur. Are we done here Master? I do believe we should leave the good Abbe in peace.”

Mordaunt stood and quickly turned his back on Armand, his quick footsteps all the signal Assassin needed to assume spirit form and follow him invisibly. The door closed silently behind the foreboding duo, and though Armand Gautier considered himself an unshakable man he sighed with relief at their departure. Two individuals of such a sinister nature made a perfect pair, but that did not make them perfect company. The Abbe was happy to have regained his peace and was making ready to sit down and write the aforementioned letters, signaling the start of the Grail War proper, when the doors of the church were flung open dramatically and a new pair stepped into Armand's quiet sanctuary.


	17. The Enemies Myriad II

II.

As the Renault Vel Satis pulled up to the entrance to the Mandarin Oriental Paris, one of the city's highest end luxury hotels, Lord Wilmore opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle before it had fully stopped moving. Ali followed quickly after him once the driver had actually parked the car and sent the bewildered driver off with a wave of his hand. Ali had to nearly run to keep the swift pace of the agitated aristocrat. A number of the hotel attendants in the lobby immediately recognized the pair and rushed to their side to badger them with offers of assistance. Wilmore however was not in the mood for their particular brand of boot-licking.

“Enough! Out of my way.” His words hit the employees like a crashing wave and they immediately scattered away from him. Ali followed behind and offered small nods and condolences to the beleaguered staff.

“Bad business deal.” Ali stepped into the elevator after Wilmore as he gave the people in the lobby one last apologetic look. After the doors of the lift closed in front of them Ali gave his friend a confused look. “What can possibly be the matter with you? I understand you and Louise's friend didn't get off on the best foot but I saw the two of you making amends after lunch. Surely he couldn't have been that offensive to you.”

“It is not wounds to my pride that I am worried about him inflicting.” Wilmore stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at Ali as he spoke.

The express elevator chimed and the doors opened on the Mandarin Penthouse Floor that was situated on the top-story. Wilmore stormed through the vestibule and sitting room, tossing his cape onto one of the couches as he passed. The doors to the terrace flew open before him and he dropped himself into a plush lounging chair that looked out over the city below. A deep agitated sigh escaped his lips as he raised his hand to beckon Ali to his side.

“Sit with me Ali. There is something we must discuss.” Wilmore snapped his fingers as Ali crossed the terrace to join him. At the signal an attendant appeared seemingly out of nowhere and brought a cigar case and liquor decanter over. Wilmore poured a glass for each of them and selected two of the smokables from the box before dismissing the lackey.

“Thank you as always Lord. Your generosity has proved boundless.” Ali accepted the cigar which Wilmore lit with a small black flame that he produced from his fingers.

“Ali. There is no generosity involved with what I do or procure for you. I have told you before that my resources are ever at your disposal as if they were your own. And it is on the note of our arrangement that I must speak with you.”

“Has something happened? The priest said he would send a letter when the war had officially begun.” Ali sipped at the expensive drink, but did so with some difficulty, his palette not used to the potent and burning flavor of the rich beverage.

“I should think that the Abbe's letter shall be soon forthcoming. No it is on the matter of your acquaintance, Louise. You had mentioned her before I met her today. What do you know of her?” Lord Wilmore took the drink in deep gulps, seeming to not even bother to taste the liquid.

“Well she is clearly from a rather loaded family-”

“Wealthy. My dear Ali. Or well-to-do even.” Wilmore shook his head as he corrected Ali's language.

“Ah, yes. Excuse me. Her family is clearly wealthy. And she was here with her sister on family business. But the two of them were forced to part ways recently.”

“She is here on family business. Hah. Does that at all sound familiar Ali?” Wilmore set the glass down and calmly puffed at his cigar as he waited for Ali's reply.

“Pardon Lord?” Ali gave Wilmore a look of mild amusement, unsure of where his companion was going with the conversation.. 

Wilmore was out of his seat and standing over Ali in an instant, black flames burning in his eyes, his shadow curling around the seated man like an octopus poised to ensnare him. “Does it not sound incredibly similar to your own terribly vague excuse you give for being here in Paris? Is it not odd that only a few days after we came here she and her sister should happen to arrive? And is it not more concerning that only two days after you met her in the company of only her sister that you should now find her accompanied by a man who was previously absent and unmentioned ? A man who is helping her with this vague business?”

“Well I had not pried that deeply into the particulars of their visit,” Ali was visibly anxious beneath Wilmore's penetrating gaze, but kept some level of confidence. “But I suppose now that you mention it the whole thing does come off as a bit of a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?!” Wilmore reared forward, his hands outstretched, the many tendrils of his shadow stabbing towards his apprehensive companion. Inches from Ali's face he stopped and slowly fell back and away from the terrified young man before slumping down in his chair. “Everything I am doing I do to make you a more capable master, surely you must understand that. But my how you can exhaust me so.” Wilmore straightened himself out into a proper sitting position before continuing. “Master, there are several advantages servants have over humans. Beyond our superhuman physical capabilities and our myriad supernatural abilities, we are capable of detecting magic to a much greater degree than your average mage. Perhaps if you were one of the great wizards of old you would have been able to sense it as well, but I digress.” The Lord paused, finally taking a moment to enjoy the sensory pleasures of the drink and smoke. “Specifically, servants are able to detect each other with fantastic accuracy. Unless the other servant has some sort of presence concealment, or their master has gone to extensive lengths to hide their true nature, it is quite simple for us to know one another.”

Ali slowly raised himself out of the hunched defensive position he had taken during Wilmore's previous attack as his companion spoke. “If I am understanding you right, and I do believe I've gotten the gist of it... You can't mean...? Louise's companion?”

“I have yet to joke with you yet, have I?”

“Well yes but... That would make Louise...” Ali didn't want to speak the words. He knew what it would mean to apply the label to the woman he had taken such a fancy to.

“A master. There, I said it for you. She is one of your enemies Ali. One of OUR enemies.”

“But if you sensed it, then surely he did as well.”

“It is guaranteed that he also knows my true nature. We spoke on the very subject.”

Ali was speechless for a moment, mulling over everything that his servant had just revealed to him. “When you spoke with him you didn't give him any… pertinent, information? ”

“My true name? Don't be foolish. I didn't even reveal my class to the fellow.”

Ali let out a sigh of relief. “Well that's alright then.”

“So?” Wilmore seemed to be waiting for Ali to say something specific.

“So? So, it is a simple matter. I will speak with Louise on the subject.”

“You will do what?” the servant was caught completely off guard by his master's words.

“I will talk to Louise. Yes, this is a war, a battle royale if you will. But that does not mean alliances, even temporary ones, cannot be formed. She's an intelligent woman. She'll be sure to see the value in our joining forces, especially once she knows what we have to offer.” Ali gave his companion a knowing look, clearly proud of his idea.

“I will, against my better judgment allow you to meet with the young lady again. But-!” Wilmore was on his feet standing over Ali again, though with less malice this time, instead emitting a strong domineering energy. “You will reveal nothing of our abilities or resources to her. That secret is ours to keep. Do you understand?”

“Of course Lord.” Ali did not shrink back this time, though it was impossible for him to not tremble slightly in the servant's presence. 

“Very good. I leave you to your own devices for the rest of the evening. I think I will continue to admire the view.” Lord Wilmore seated himself overlooking the city below once more and waved his hand as if to dismiss Ali like he was another one of the staff.


	18. The Enemies Myriad III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience with the missed week update. Just wanted to tweak some stuff to be just right. With any luck we'll be back on normal schedule after this.

III.

Louise, Rider, and Grimaud spent another couple hours meandering through the city before the elderly photographer departed, citing some pictures he wanted to capture while the natural lighting was at a particular level. Louise and Rider saw him off as he left in a taxi and the duo soon found themselves alone. 

Her hand still in the air, waving to the departing vehicle, Louise spoke to Rider. "What in the world was all of that about?"

"Generally, kind words are exchanged between friends when they part ways. And an energetic wave of the hand is another way of showing a departing companion that you appreciate their company."

Louise turned sharply at Rider's sarcastic words. "I was not speaking of Grimaud's departure."

"I know very well what you were speaking on." Rider's look turned quickly from playful to sullen.

"Then I believe you owe me some sort of explanation for your insistence on fighting with Ali's companion. The gentleman may have a different upbringing and origin than you, but I'm sure that some sort of mutual understanding can be reached between the two of you."

"It is not our origins that differ. And I assure you that a mutual understanding is impossible," Rider had started walking back in the direction of the hotel as he spoke. Louise took a few quick steps to catch up with him and match his stride.

"Perhaps the two of you have developed a quarrel, but for mine and Ali's sake if you could-"

"I would cease feeling so familiar with the young man if I were you master. It would only serve to make what is to come all the more difficult." Rider visibly bit his mustache as he built up to the important facts he had deduced during the lunch.

"And what business is it of yours if I make some associations while I am here?" Louise was insulted at the implication that Rider had any say in the aspects of what she deemed her personal life.

"Our fates are completely intertwined, surely you can see that. That is what business it is of mine. Tell me, didn't something seem odd about Monsieur Bertuccio's companion? Surely you must have noticed some small detail. Even an odd feeling he gave you." Rider was forced to stop as the two of them waited at a crosswalk for the signal to change, his inability to continue forward further increasing his agitation.

"Well I would certainly say he was a little intimidating. But surely that can be attributed to the high station he holds in society." As the signal changed and the duo started crossing the avenue, Louise felt slightly dumbfounded at Rider's apparent animosity in regards to Lord Wilmore, and replied with a tone that was perhaps more dismissive than appropriate.

"You are the daughter of a prestigious magus family aren't you!? Why in heaven's name would you feel intimidated by someone simply because they are wealthier than the rest of the mundane humans around you?" Rider had stopped as they reached the halfway point of the crosswalk, barring his master's progress forward as he interrogated her.

"I am a daughter of the Saint-Hermine's, a noble and powerful bloodline!"

"So you've told me. Now act like one! Cast aside your foolish compassion for each random stranger you happen to meet and think like you are in the middle of a mortal battle, much like the one you are! Monsiuer Bertuccio, Grimaud, the baker, your sister! Why do you hold these people in your heart so readily?" The light signaling it was safe to cross the street blinked for a few moments before changing to advise pedestrians not to enter the road.

"What exactly are you after?" Louise could feel her blood boil at what she perceived as Rider's impertinent dismissal of her authority. She refused to give him any room to mock her.

"Tell me what you really thought of Lord Wilmore. What. Did. You. Feel!?" Traffic had started to move. Had there been any vehicles stopped at the light, the drivers would have seen the arguing pair immediately and easily gone around them or honked to warn them of their position. However the only vehicles had been a few blocks away, and the truck now barreling down the street towards them would not be able to notice them right away.

"He terrified me! There! Is that what you wanted? " Louise was screaming at Rider before she even realized what she was saying. Yelling if only to drown out his condescending words. Shouting to be heard over the roar of the approaching vehicle.

Within moments Rider had scooped his master up off the road and leapt the thirty-five feet to the other side of the road, the truck flying through the space they had only moments before occupied. "I can protect you from physical dangers like that with ease, master." Rider carefully set Louise down as he spoke. "But I cannot protect you from your own foolish pride and misplaced sympathies. I've seen you in battle. You are fierce, but calculating, you hardly need my assistance. We undoubtedly face many deadly foes, but the greatest danger to you is the one I am incapable of preventing."

Louise was shaking. Not because of the close call with truck, or because of her now revealed fear of Lord Wilmore, but because of how foolish she had been. Rider was the only person other than herself she could count on during the Grail War, but she had been shutting him out from the beginning. Louise thought that perhaps it was time to change that.

"He terrified me, Rider." Louise's words came out low and with no emotion. "I've not felt a pressure like his since leaving my father's presence. There was something otherworldly and altogether menacing about him. How someone as acquiescent as Ali can stand to be constantly in his vicinity is hard for me to understand."

"It was not wrong that you felt him otherworldly, master. It would be accurate to describe him as such. He is like me. He is a servant. "

Louise fell silent. A shocked look stuck on her features as she understood what his being a servant meant. She just stared at Rider for several moments before speaking. "If he is a servant, then the only possible conclusion is that Ali is his master." Her arms fell limply at her side as she said it out loud. "I was just chatting with him so familiarly. As if he were an old friend. But he is my enemy isn't he, Rider? How have I been so foolish?"

"You could not have known before now, my master. Foolish? No. Naive perhaps. But not foolish."

"Some would say that is a greater sin Rider." Louise had started walking again, wanting to put space between herself and the restaurant, the site of her humiliation.

"It is not too late to mend. I do not believe that Monsieur Bertuccio knew before now either, so he does not have an advantage you lack. However, now is the time that we cannot afford to make mistakes." Rider matched Louise's slower pace, understanding the shame she must be feeling. 

"What would you have me do Rider?" Louise's tone was dejected and detached.

"That is not my decision to make, master. I am your familiar. I can offer advice and guidance, but you must make the final call. Now is the time to show your true resolve. I trust you."

"You trust me?" It was not what Louise had expected to hear. Until now she was certain that Rider's chastising had come from a desire to be the dominant one in the partnership. If he was willing to trust her, perhaps it was time for her to try and trust him.

"As much as I can. As much as I must. It is not my place as a humble chevalier to issue orders to the one whom I serve. It is my place to follow orders." Rider gave a small bow to Louise as they continued on.

"I will require some time to think about what to do next." Louise gazed off into the distance, her eyes fixed on the unknowable horizon of the future.

"Time is not something we have in excess, but very well." The rest of the walk back was conducted in silence, both of them too distracted by their own thoughts. When they arrived at the hotel Louise quickly prepared for bed, ignoring the relatively early hour. Rider wordlessly let her make her preparations, and as she lay down to sleep he assumed his spirit form and moved to the balcony to watch the street below. "Oh, Athos. Can I get it right this time? Will I be the guiding hand I'm supposed to be?"


	19. The Enemies Myriad IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, thanks for staying with me! Life stuff has been a little frantic lately so it is very likely that the update schedule may be a little irregular for the next few weeks. I'll try my best to stay weekly, but right now I can't make promises. Thank you for your patience and continued support!

IV.

Nights were proving to be less than kind to Louise. She awoke to Rider shaking her, his finger pressed close to his lips. Suddenly his voice was in Louise's mind.

"-Something is coming. I'm sure you can feel this magical presence.-"

Louise concentrated a moment, putting her senses out into the world, feeling for magical energy, and sure enough she detected a plethora of entities in the hotel and surrounding streets. Without more time to focus she couldn't get an exact number, but the young mage detected easily two dozen or more of them, summoned entities, like golems made of pure mana.

"-I sense them. There's a high number moving about. They've already surrounded the hotel, and some have entered the hallway. Ideas?-" Louise focused her thoughts back at Rider in an attempt to communicate. Her efforts had clearly paid off, as right after her response the chevalier nodded back at her and his features assumed a look of consideration.

"-I have an idea. We have no way of knowing exactly what they are, but we do know they are clearly here for us. My job is to fight for you, so that is precisely what I shall do. I'll catch the attempted surprise attackers off guard with a surprise attack of my own. You go out through the balcony and go along the roof-tops as far as you can. I doubt they will have spread the net that distant.-" Rider looked around the room a moment, pausing to make sure their attackers were not upon them before continuing. "-Take whatever you can with you. Once you've gotten some distance circle back around and approach the hotel with caution. We'll meet back up here to collect anything left behind once I've drawn them far enough away.-"

Louise gave him a sign of affirmation before getting up and quickly getting dressed in some of her street clothes. She threw some catalytic stones into a handbag along with her spellbook and a few other materials before informing Rider she was ready.

"-Won't any stationed in the street see me climb onto the roof?-" Louise was concerned Rider hadn't fully thought the plan through.

"-That is precisely why you will wait until the moment I attack to leave. As soon as they hear their allies engage in combat, the others will rush to their aid.-” Rider drew both pistols from his belt and stood ready at the door, waiting for the slightest noise on the other side. Louise positioned herself just in front of the door leading to the balcony, not daring to touch the curtains yet, lest their movement give her away.

As Rider waited at the ready, his pistols trained on the door, he heard the nearly imperceptible sound of cautious footsteps on the other side. He almost fired, but kept his patience. The moment he heard the metallic click of the doorknob beginning to turn he immediately fired a shot from each gun into the thick wooden barrier, his magical ammunition exploding through the door. Hearing a pained sound from someone on the other side, Rider screamed a battle-cry, hoping to garner the attention of as many of their assailants as possible, and slammed his weight into the door, bringing it crashing down on a pair of individuals on the other side. Louise saw all the opportunity she was going to get and flew through the door to the balcony. Her legs already charged with magical energy, she leapt onto the rooftop of the hotel and broke into a sprint across it, her still-amplified agility allowing her to easily clear the gap between each new building she came to.

Rider took little time considering the situation, choosing to get a look at his new opponents as he fought them. The five men gathered in the hallway were all dressed identically, each of them wearing a red and black poncho over red plate armor, their faces obscured by shrouds decorated with a red cross. Each assailant held either a flintlock rifle or sabre in their hands, the other one slung on their back or hip respectively. Rider put a fatal shot into the heads of the two soldiers he had brought the door down on top of before rolling off the heap and taking shelter behind the bodies. The corpses propped up the felled door momentarily, shielding him from incoming fire, before they burned away into nothing, the magic keeping the creatures on this plane expiring with them. As the bodies disappeared the door fell flat on the ground exposing Rider to his opponents. He fired several rounds of covering fire down the hallway as he retreated the opposite direction. Stopping at the first window he came to, Rider fired one more shot at his approaching foes before throwing himself through the glass and into the street below.

Rider rolled as he landed, coming up into a run , he wasted no time sprinting for the main road. As he reached the Rue de Vaugirard, Rider saw the soldiers exit the hotel and give chase after him. He stood with both pistols fixed on the approaching golems. "I am ready to receive you my worthy foes. Come! Let us meet in honorable combat!" The reply to his taunt was several stray shots ricocheting off the pavement around him. However the wayward bullets did not come from the soldiers he was watching. Rider looked down the road to his right and saw another dozen or so of the shrouded figures approaching, all on horseback, with rifles pointed towards him. "Well these numbers are hardly fair. But so be it! If you think you can face me in combat, I dare you to try and conquer me in a test of speed!"

Rider took off down the Rue de Vaugirard, more shots from his assailants whizzing by dangerously close to him. "Infini Cheval Poste de Cent Quatre Lieues!" Rider leapt into the air and landed on the back of a phantasmal manifestation of his own. The conceptual mount of the reliable post horses that had carried him across so many of his most important missions, fully materialized underneath the Chevalier and immediately began carrying him down the road at ludicrous speeds. In appearance the horse was incredibly mundane, and if anything looked as though it were of poor breeding. But this was the same type of horse that had carried him one hundred and four leagues in such a short time to arrive at the Louvre and inform the king of Monsieur Fouquet's treachery. The unassuming brown coloration and minimal patterning concealed its exceptional capabilities. 

Despite the unnatural speed of Rider's mount, the enemy was still giving effective chase. Their mounts were phantasmal manifestations as well, and while they could not quite close the distance, they could at least keep pace with the post horse. Rider turned in his saddle, letting the horse handle navigation as he fired his pistols with both hands to combat the pursuing soldiers. Had he been facing forward perhaps he would have seen the cloaked golem step out of the alleyway ahead and been able to react in time. Unfortunately Rider was so engrossed in exchanging fire with the enemy behind, he was unable to react to the one ahead. The soldier readied a massive halberd, and as the horse approached, brought it to bare, driving the heavy pole-arm into the chest of Rider's mount. The post horse immediately halted, tumbling over itself as it crumbled into the pavement, and flung its rider into the air.

 

Louise had crossed nearly a mile of rooftops before stopping to survey her current situation. Having found a building that was notably taller than the surrounding cityscape, Louise perched herself in the shadow of the architecture and watched the streets below for any immediate threats. Once she was sure none of the enemy had pursued her to her current location she laid back against the cold stonework and let herself breathe a moment. She needed a better understanding of what was happening back near the hotel. She reached out towards Rider with her mind, hoping their shared link worked over the greater distance. "-Rider. Are you there? What is the situation?-"

The reply was immediate, but the servant sounded strained and distracted. "-Busy!-"

Louise was sure Rider was still engaged in combat with their mysterious foe, so it fell on her to decide her own next move. She pulled a small piece of paper from her bag and folded it into a bird-shape that vaguely resembled a swallow. The mage whispered a few words into her creation before leaning her head back and closing her eyes. As she tossed the small construct into the air it took flight and her own senses transferred to the temporary familiar. Flapping the now magically charged paper wings, Louise was soon soaring over Paris back towards the apartments she had fled. A floating but quick pace soon found her over her hotel. The first thing she noticed was the shattered glass and broken window frame Rider had left in the wake of his escape. Though their combat had surely made a severe amount of noise, there didn't seem to be any of the other hotel tenants milling around the scene of the chaos. In fact Louise didn't see civilians anywhere on the streets nearby. Despite the late hour, she had seen some activity on the streets near where her body currently sat defenseless, but the closer she got to where the enemy was operating the fewer people she saw. 

The lack of civilian activity was not an indication of the area being deserted though. Several of the cloaked phantasmals were still active on the Rue Servandoni just outside the hotel. There were only three of them though, the number left behind was far more manageable than the initial horde. Louise let her consciousness slip back into her own body and the paper bird, left inanimate, floated away on the wind.

Sticking to the rooftops, Louise circled north a couple blocks before heading back towards the hotel. In case any of them had seen her depart she didn't want to approach from the same angle. Approaching the hotel from the direction opposite the Rue de Vaugirard, the young Saint-Hermine didn't initially see any of the enemies, and deemed it safe to drop down onto the Rue Servandoni. Louise was only a few doors from the hotel entrance, moving cautiously between trashcans and what shadows there were for cover, when she heard movement behind her accompanied by, surprisingly, a voice calling out.

"Halt. Right. There." The phantasmal soldier's voice was unnatural and stuttering, but still very clear. Louise turned her head slightly so she could see the cloaked figure with its antique rifle leveled at her. Louise was confused and worried by this strange change in behavior. It had her completely in its sights, and just as taken by surprise, so why had it given her a warning? The summoned enemies had wasted no time in attacking Rider, and as far as Louise knew, were pursuing him with the greatest deadly intent. But here, one of them was going through the motions that Louise believed would end in capture instead of death, not that Louise was going to settle for either option.

"Turn. Around. Now." The soldier gave a directing wave of its rifle. Even if it did plan to take Louise captive, it was being extremely cautious, keeping the barrel pointed directly at her head.

Louise mumbled an incantation before turning to face the soldier. She had both hands in the air, signaling obedience to its action.

"Approach. Slowly."

Louise steadily walked forward, dragging out the duration of her approach. She glanced over at her left hand. With her palm pointed towards the phantasmal it couldn't see the magical energy slowly swirling into existence on the backside. Louise found herself only a dozen steps from the creature when it uttered its next command.

"Now. Drop. To. The. Ground." Its focus was completely on keeping the rifle trained on Louise's face. A small smile crossed her lips. The soldier found it a curious reaction to her current situation.

Louise dropped to the ground, but much faster than the golem was expecting, and not as low as it wanted. She shot herself forward, as parallel to the street as she could get, the crouching run putting her just under the path of the shot fired by the panicking soldier. The magical energy on her hand finished manifesting and she struck out with the ethereal blade that was now wreathed around her arm. The ephemeral blade cut a deep gash in the soldier's plate armor, knocking the creature off balance setting Louise up for a follow-up strike. Louise pivoted on her right foot and drove the blade into the injured soldier. Her arm passed clean through the body of the golem, shattering its physical form and causing it to disintegrate on the spot. 

Louise had no time to celebrate the victory. The sound of two more soldiers entering the street from the other end was all the warning she got before they opened up with a withering amount of fire. Louise willed the magical blade to expand, turning it into a makeshift buckler that she used to block the shots. She brought it up just in time, the magical force causing the bullets to ricochet wildly around the street, a few of them blasting through the door of a nearby home. 

The two phantasmals decided ranged attacks weren't going to work and dropped their rifles before drawing their swords and charging the mage. 

Louise willed the buckler back into a blade, the energy swirling around her entire forearm, its pointed end extending out a foot and a half from her fingertips. As she rushed the attacking soldiers she felt a now familiar excitement overtake her, the same feeling of boiling blood and flowing adrenaline she had first experienced during the fight with Archer. This time though, as she parried the sabres of her opponents with all the grace granted by her ample fencing practice, it was elevated tenfold, her survival hinging solely on her own skill amplifying the thrill. 

Caught up as she was in the sheer frenzy of the fight, Louise left a small opening against her two opponents and one of them delivered a sharp kick to her ribs that sent her slamming into the door that had been shot earlier. The wooden barrier shuddered under the impact, but was sturdy enough to not give way to the weight slamming into it. Louise let out a pained cough as the impact knocked the breath from her. The soldier who had delivered the kick drove his sabre towards her, the thrust aimed at her torso. Louise, though a little dazed from the blow was still able to dodge the strike, the blade driving itself deep into the door behind her. 

The soldier struggled with the stuck weapon only momentarily, but it was all the time Louise needed, and she decapitated the defenseless golem. She took no time celebrating over the dematerializing foe and charged the final soldier. True to its inhuman nature the creature showed no hesitation despite its now fallen comrades. The mage and the phantasmal exchanged a flurry of blows before Louise was able to bring her blade in under its guard, skewering her opponent through the neck. It gave a pained groan before it vanished like all the foes before it.

Louise banished her magical blade and stood panting for a moment, trails of sweat running down her face, as the thrill of the fight started to wear off. Suddenly she heard an intake of breath from behind and she whirled around to face the source of the noise, her blade swirling back into form. From the opening of the abused door, Louise saw the form of Grimaud with an expression of both horror and confusion plastered on his features. He made a series of confused noises before he was finally able to form coherent words. “I'm afraid I don't understand. What... What is all this?” 

Louise took an extended moment to consider the situation before she lowered her hand and once again dispersed the magical blade. “It would be a rather lengthy explanation, but after what I'm sure you just witnessed, perhaps one you are due. Won't you let me inside? I can't guarantee how safe the streets are right now.”

 

"-Rider. Are you there? What is the situation?-"

“-Busy!-” Rider tumbled through the air for a few moments before once again announcing the name of his noble phantasm, “Infini Cheval Poste de Cent Quatre Lieues!” and another summoned horse, similar to the last but with those slight differences inherent to animals of that trade, appeared beneath him before he could hit the ground. He was off at a swift gallop once again, not even appearing to have lost anything by the death of his first mount. He turned momentarily to put a bullet into the head of the soldier who had dared to skewer the poor beast as he rode on.

The group of enemy riders was still behind him, and had gained some ground by the short time Rider had spent without his mount. They all drew their swords and began to slowly close the gap. The gap was being closed by Rider however, and not the soldiers, as he had dropped his speed slightly to allow them to catch up. The first of the enemies came up on Rider's right and immediately struck out at him with its sabre. Rider dropped himself backwards, laying his back against that of his horse, and drawing his own sword at the same time, cut a deep gash across its exposed body. With one of his pistols still in his free hand he fired a shot that knocked the staggered enemy from its mount. 

The enemy was quickly replaced by another, and was joined by a third coming up on Rider's left. He didn't have time to right himself before they were both lashing out at the still prostrate servant, and he was just barely able to parry both attacks, one with his own sword, the other with his pistol. The soldier on his left used the momentum of its blocked attack to wrench Rider's pistol from his hand, and sent it clattering uselessly down the boulevard behind them. 

Rider pulled his feet from the stirrups of his saddle as the enemies readied their next attack. The soldiers brought their swords down simultaneously in a chopping motion towards Rider's head, but only struck the horse as Rider let himself slip off the back of his mount. The servant bounced and rolled down the road for several dozen feet before he was able to hop back up into a standing position. The post horse disappeared like the one before it, leaving the enemies trailing after nothing, and it took some time for them to slow the considerable pace they had been going. Just as they finally managed to bring their steeds around, one of them was blasted off its mount by a shot from Rider's one remaining pistol. 

“And then there were two!” Rider taunted the last soldier as he stood in the street, his sword down and the pistol held brazenly over his head. “I must say, monsieur, I do commend you for making it further than your cohorts, but I'm afraid this ends here. En garde!”

The phantasmal, unfazed by the death of its cohorts, and uncaring about Rider's taunts, raised its sword and charged the boastful chevalier. Its horse was amazingly agile, cutting a serpentine like approach pattern that made it quite difficult for Rider to simply use the pistol. He holstered the firearm and readied his sword as the horseman approached. When the mounted soldier was only a few feet away, the deadly game of chicken moments from its inevitable conclusion, Rider leapt into the air, easily clearing the charging stallion, and cut a deep line down the horseman's back as he descended. The horse disappeared along with the death of the soldier, and Rider found himself alone on the street.

“-Master, I have finally dispatched our mysterious foes. I trust everything is fine on your end.-” Rider had just remembered that Louise had tried to contact him earlier, and was hoping he would find her in okay condition despite the delay.

“-I'm fine. I ran into a little bit of trouble myself but I was able to handle them easily enough. There is a new problem however.-” Louise had a tone of apprehension to her thoughts, though Rider was not sure if it was concern or fatigue that caused it.

“-More enemies?-”

“-Thank heavens no. Something that will provide a somewhat different kind of difficulty. Come back to the Rue Servandoni.-”

“-Are you back at the hotel?-”

“-No... I'm with a friend. His home is just a few doors from the hotel. You'll know the correct door when you see it I assure you.-”


	20. The Enemies Myriad V

V.

Armand Busoni looked toward the church entrance to identify the cause of so much noise in his quiet sanctuary, and was exhausted just by perceiving the duo who had entered. Unlike the last pair that had just departed, The Abbe was already familiar with these two. As they differed from the others in the Abbe's familiarity they differed just as completely in energy and temperament. Leo and Zoe de Franchi were a pair of brother mages from Corsica who had spent every minute since their simultaneous birth in each other's company. They had grown together and studied to be mages together, and now they were masters in the Holy Grail War together. 

Leo was the older brother by five or six minutes and the more composed of the two. This was not to say that he was dour or over-serious, far from it in fact, he was just as inclined to celebration and energetic exchanges as his brother. He was however more given to considering situations and people, and what consequences may come from the improper handling of both. His countenance was slightly more drawn than his brother, and his chin and facial shape benefited from the short but full beard and mustache that dominated his lower features. His dress was formal without being stuffy. Pressed navy blue slacks with a silver trim were complimented by his black, belted leather shoes. He wore a tie that drew the eye upward, with its swirling patterns of purple, gray, and black, situated as it was within the center of a splendid black tailcoat, the silver trim of it matching the pants. The intricately carved walking stick, while superfluous, served as his primary magical focus and perfect final flourish for his appearance.

Zoe was much like his brother in that he enjoyed the company of others and all manner of celebration that could be had in good society, but where his brother tended to give more serious consideration to the situation at hand, Zoe was happy to simply let things take their course and play out naturally. As a result people often mistook Zoe for being excessively complacent, when the truth was that he was just more reactionary in his decisions. While some similarities were visible in the brother's behaviors and speech, their appearances were quite different. Zoe's face was clean shaven and slightly rounded, and where Leo kept his hair short and neat, Zoe let his dark hair grow long and flow freely down to the small of his back. His feminine dress was also in stark contrast to his brother's. He wore a long white and pink skirt of a light billowy fabric that was decorated in subtle floral patterns, a pair of white open-toed shoes whose heels were just over two inches were visible beneath the swirling garment. He wore a white blouse, that featured several prominent bows, underneath a long cardigan that fell to the same length as the skirt. A slight dance in his step, a sign of his marginally higher energy than his brother, set his many bracelets and necklaces jingling as he walked.

Both brothers, so different in appearance had one unifying visible detail. They each wore on one ear, Leo on his right and Zoe on his left, a long chain that terminated just before reaching their shoulders, and ended in an impressive alexandrite stone. The earrings were a set meant to be passed on to the heir of the de Franchi family, their own power serving to enhance the abilities of the wearer. However when the boys were old enough they had declared that as they were born together they would serve as the heir together and chose to split the treasure and share its powers. This dedication to cooperation was also the defining feature of the twins as masters.

“Really Zoe I believe you have been far too indulgent with them. I mean, letting them run about Paris without us, doing as they please? I don't think it's the most informed strategy.” Leo was chastising his brother as they entered, or as close to chastising as Leo could get with his amicable handling of his twin.

“Relax Leo, they've not gotten into too much trouble yet. And besides, as I'm sure the good Abbe is about to inform us, the rest of the masters aren't even all gathered yet. No proper start to the Grail War? No proper danger for them to encounter. This lets them get the lay of the land. After all it has been a long time since they saw Paris. Better for them to get reacquainted.” Zoe playfully dodged his brother's reprimand as he danced up to the Abbe's pulpit.

“Good afternoon Abbe.” Leo was quick to greet Armand after their slightly rambunctious entrance. “I trust the day finds you well. Did you just have a visitor? We passed a rather odd looking man outside.”

“I can answer your question easily.” Armand hoped he could end the meeting with the brothers quickly, they had left him rather drained during their previous assembly. “Your brother was speaking on all of the masters being gathered. It is true that up until this moment that not all of the participants were present and prepared. However, with the appearance of the gentleman you just saw I can now guarantee you that all seven masters are ready.”

“Was that him then? That shady fellow in the hood?” Zoe had sat at one of the pews and was wiggling with excitement.

“Merely a messenger on the seventh master's behalf. He apparently did not see fit to come here himself. I am given to understand some mages are like that though.” Armand was not going to withhold the information about the seven masters all being ready, but he was not going to give the twins an unfair advantage over Mordaunt by revealing his identity to them.

“Can't be a very prestigious master this one if that's how his messengers look.” Said Leo.

“Smelled funny too.” Zoe added.

“Didn't even have the good manners to say hello.”

“Not so much as a wave.”

“Quite rude.”

“Is there anything else I can help you both with?” The Abbe was already exhausted by the de Franchi twins and they had only been there a few minutes.

“Just any more advice you might have, my good priest. I don't know to what extent you are allowed to advise us, but your place as mediator did make me want to come back for some input.” Leo was quick to shift to a more serious topic and put away his banter with his brother, much as he was enjoying it.

“Well the two of you hardly need my help. Summoning two servants as one is quite the advantage. I've looked over past records and it does not seem to be a particularly common occurrence.”

“We were just as surprised as you.” Zoe was more than happy to brag about what he perceived as their chief advantage. “But, then again, perhaps we shouldn't be surprised given the manner of our summoning.” Zoe shot a smug look at the two part command seal on the back of his left hand. Leo gave a furtive glance to the matching seal on his right. “We are two masters as one. Two servants as one. And four total command seals to boot. We're hardly in a bad spot for this whole thing.”

“Zoe can be a little cocky at times. And though he has a tendency to run his mouth-” 

“Shut it.” Zoe interrupted. 

“But in this case I am inclined to agree with my brother. Ours is a most secure position. The advantage Archer presents is too much to ignore.”

“Secure indeed.” Armand spread his arms as he spoke. “As I said there hardly seems to be anything else I can offer to help you both. I was about to write the letters, but I will skip writing yours and tell you now. The seven have gathered. The servants are summoned and assembled. The Holy Grail War has begun.”


	21. The Juge d'Instruction, Maria I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your patience during these last few months of silence. Life just has a way of hitting you and not letting up, but I am persevering. This story is not dead, I'm not dead, and neither are any of our characters... yet. I plan on posting the next update in two weeks, and may keep an every two week update schedule until things stabilize here a little more. I look forward to your ongoing support. Thank you so much!

I.

Louise left Grimaud in a worrying silence for several minutes as she stood at the window, concealed behind the curtain, watching the street for any more of the summoned soldiers. When she was convinced no more were coming for her, she let the curtain close fully and turned to the concerned old man. She wasn’t sure how to explain everything to him. She had been so desperate to stay close to Grimaud, but now that proximity could threaten his safety. Louise had begun to care for Grimaud, but was starting to think that pulling back from him may be a better option. 

"I apologize for the late hour, and for the manner in which I have kept you these past few minutes. I can only assume you must have a number of questions for me."

Grimaud, who was hunched over himself on the couch, lifted his head at Louise's words. "A few questions may be an understatement, madame. I have begun to very much doubt the validity of many of the things you have told me up until this point. Or the validity of many things I thought I knew up until this point."

"I can understand your apprehension monsieur, and I can't say I blame you for being suspicious of me, you've every right to be. If you will allow me, I will be fully honest, and try to be quite frank with you."

"-Careful what you say Master,-" Rider, in spirit form, had arrived in the apartment, and his voice was back in Louise's mind, the tone of which implied a sense of wariness about the situation. "-I do not know if it would be wise to reveal too much to this man. Recall our conversation on this matter earlier.-"

"-I appreciate what you are trying to say Rider, but in this case I think it is the appropriate thing to be completely honest. He deserves the truth, and Grimaud, at least, is not someone we need to be so cautious with.-" Louise would have accompanied her thoughts with a stern look towards Rider if she had been able to see him.

"Louise, my dear, you were saying something about frankness?" Grimaud gave her a quizzical look, puzzled by the strange moments of silence. He was still incredibly uneasy, given everything that had just happened, and Louise's promised explanation was the only thing that could possibly set his reeling mind at ease.

"I apologize monsieur." Louise moved away from the window and sat down at the dining table before continuing. "By now you may have guessed that the business I had said I was here on is not quite what one would call typical. But I assure you though that it is still on behalf of my family that I am here, that much was true."

"I don't doubt the atypical nature of what you are doing. But it seems to me to have a rather dangerous edge to it." Grimaud looked nervously towards his damaged door as he spoke. "Those men. The ones you fought. They weren't... I mean, they just... disappeared." Grimaud tripped over his words every time he thought too long about what he had seen, his conventional worldview being torn apart by the supernatural happenings.

Louise sighed. She knew what she was about to say was an inevitable part of the conversation, but people of the mundane world rarely took it well. "You see Grimaud, those creatures were not men."

"Creatures?" Grimaud gave a sort of scoff as he spoke, rebelling against his commonplace views of how the world worked being taken apart.

"Yes, creatures. They were beings of concentrated energy and will forced into a human-like shape and given a sort of programming that acted as their driving force. Golems of sorts. Monsieur Grimaud, they were beings of pure magic."

An oppressively long silence followed Louise's revelation. Grimaud's eyes moved around the apartment as if he were looking for a more reasonable explanation to come floating down from the ceiling. He rubbed his face in both hands, wondering if his having been so abruptly woken had affected his reasoning. After far too long, he lifted his tired face from his hands and looked Louise in the eyes. Her stern, serious expression betrayed no humor or deceit. The elderly photographer gave a long sigh before finally replying.

"You're quite serious aren't you?"

Louise responded by giving a slight nod of her head, her eyes still terrifyingly still and intense.

"And that, energy... That was around your arm? Magic as well I suppose."

"Yes, monsieur."

"Your business, that brings you to Paris? How is that tied to it all?"

If Louise were able to see Rider she would have noted the fierce look he shot at her while he violently twisted his mustache in agitation. As it was though, despite being unable to actually perceive his feelings visually, Louise felt very certain of what he might be thinking. 

After weighing carefully what the possible consequences may be, Louise took a deep breath and explained the Holy Grail War, at least the basic concept of it, to her elderly friend.

Grimaud didn't react in any visible way during her entire explanation. After Louise had finished he leaned back into the couch and nodded his head a few times before letting out a massive sigh. Grimaud was a man of reason, who had just experienced some very unreasonable things. He was going to need more time than Louise was sure to afford him right to process everything. If he couldn't properly put the concept of magic and hero spirits into a sensible place, he could at least be concerned about the things he did understand, chief among them being Louise's safety. "And your family, your parents, insisted on your taking part in this contest?"

"Yes monsieur. It is considered the best way to judge a mage's worth."

"Is that all you want from it?" Grimaud raised an eyebrow at Louise, indicating he doubted something about her own personal investment.

"Pardon, monsieur?" Louise was not expecting that to be the part that Grimaud questioned.

"You said so yourself that it is a life or death contest. That you could be killed at any moment. I saw that possibility myself just minutes ago. And you are even pitted against your own sister. Your flesh and blood-"

"I am an adopted member of the family..."

"That is hardly of consequence. They consider you family enough for you to be a representative in this important.... Thing. But that does not answer why, despite all these awful aspects, you are choosing to take part."

"Monsieur, it is my responsibility as an heir to the family name to do this. If it is what my father wants then I must."

Grimaud scrunched up the features of his face, the expression showing both disappointment and understanding. "Louise, my dear. There are times where our family asks things of us that we simply cannot do for them. They ask us to be people we are not. Trust me, I know. But no matter how important those people are to us, no matter how much they have done for us, when we grow old we tend to regret not having done more for ourselves. Not being the people we really are and letting others dictate that for us." Grimaud stood as he spoke, crossing the room to stand in front of a large portrait of two young men that hung on the wall opposite the couch. "Now tell me, do you really want a part in all this?"

Louise was stunned by Grimaud's sudden burst of candor. She was unsure of how to respond to his question, not even knowing herself how she truly felt about participating in the Grail War.

"Her feelings are irrelevant." Rider had remained silent up to this point. He disliked Louise making Grimaud privy to the details of the war, wanting to adhere to the guidelines that stated involving non-mages was prohibited, but he was aware that she had little choice in the matter considering the circumstances. 

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur d'Fere?" Grimaud was surprised at both his suddenly speaking, and the words he had chosen.

"I said that, considering the situation, Madame Saint-Hermine has no choice left. She has already summoned a heroic spirit and made a contract. We are now, both of us, in this until completion. She must see it through, if not for herself, than for me whom she pledged to fight alongside, as I have no interest in backing out." Rider circled to stand behind Louise as he spoke, wanting to emphasize their now inseparable nature. "Would you have her break a bond and an oath so recently formed?"

Louise looked to Grimaud, a hard, serious energy in her eyes, one that mirrored the intensity that Rider was also staring at Grimaud with. "I cannot answer your question honestly at this time, Monsieur Grimaud. But this I do know, for my own honor, for my honor as a Saint-Hermine, and for my honor as a mage, I must see through what I have started here."

Grimaud was awestruck at the determination Louise possessed, despite being unsure of her own personal motivation. "You seem determined. I suppose there's nothing an old fool like me can say to change your mind. I'm sure you're tired after tonight's events, and my interrogation will only tire you further."

"I appreciate it monsieur. I'm afraid I must leave you for now to go find new lodgings... Once again. I don't deserve to ask any favors of someone as kind and understanding as you, but, if I may be so bold, please speak to no one of everything you have learned here tonight, for my safety yes, but especially for your own." Louise stood up to leave, but just as she started to walk towards the door Grimaud stopped her.

"Now now, there may be more of those things out there looking for you. No need to pointlessly endanger yourself. Besides, you don't know Paris all that well, and checking into a hotel at this hour, if you find one, would just put you out further. I have the guest bed upstairs. It's quainter than the hotel you were staying at, but you're welcome to it."

Louise was caught completely off guard by Grimaud's generous offer. She stammered for a second before giving him a proper reply. "Oh, monsieur I couldn't possibly put you out in such a fashion. As you just said, my business is quite dangerous. I would hate to put you in harm's way."

"I doubt I'll be in harm's way. Those things clearly knew where you were staying. Someone probably checked the hotel records and found your name. My home however has no such records. And you dispatched your foes before coming inside. It's safer here than to go wandering the streets tonight. I insist. Stay here tonight. Consider it a favor to a concerned old man."

Louise turned to Rider, his input was important to her, and she wanted to prove that fact to him. Rider had a thoughtful look, his brow knotted in deep reflection. After a few moments he turned to his Master and gave her a nod in favor of accepting Grimaud's proposal.

"It appears, monsieur, we are agreed in accepting your generous offer." Louise gave a light bow to Grimaud as she spoke.

"Excellent. I'll go up and prepare the bed for you. Monsieur d'Fere, I cannot offer you a bed, but I can bring some blankets and pillows down for you to use the couch."

"You may call me Rider, monsieur." Rider mirrored Louise's bow as he answered. "And that will not be necessary. As a Servant I do not require sleep or a place to do so. If you will both excuse me, I am going to the roof to keep a watch and make sure no more of our unwelcome guests reappear." With these words he disappeared into spirit form and was gone from the room.

Grimaud shook his head, still unsure of how to process all the magical things he had only just that night become aware of. "What a curious individual."


	22. The Juge d'Instruction, Maria II

II.

A young girl in a black backless dress, the large tulip mark of a similar dark shade ever present on her back, accompanied by an elegant individual in a strange metal mask, had also been hunting through the midnight hours of the world. Rosa, the young girl clad in black, had a gait that was erratic and unstable when she was not engaged in the pursuit of her quarry. The individual in the metal mask was having to make considerable effort to keep Rosa's slower, shuffling pace. The only name Rosa knew them by was Berserker, and though their long slender frame usually allowed them to take greater ranging steps, they were more than happy to slow their step to match their Master's. The two stalked the alleyways and side-streets of the Luxembourg neighborhood most nights, Rosa ever seeking an individual to vent her deranged hatred on. Berserker didn't fully understand what or whom Rosa was seeking, but knew that it was a Servant's obligation to support their Master in whatever endeavors they set their sights on. 

Berserker had however found little amusement in the last few victims of Rosa's outbursts. They were starting to notice a trend with the attacks though. All of Rosa's victims were young men in their mid-twenties to late thirties, and all had some sort of facial hair., though little was ever left of their faces once Rosa was done. Berserker had experienced little success in terms of trying to get information from their Master regarding her motivation, but they had spent too much of their life in oppressive silence and isolation to give up an opportunity for conversation now. “You know Master, I was going over some of the local papers this morning and you'll love this, it took them two days to find the last man you killed. I must say that's a new record; the others they found so quickly.”

Rosa's only reply was a strange guttural noise. 

Berserker smiled to themselves, she could be easy enough to talk to at times, but whenever she was hunting like this, it was difficult to get even one word out of her. “I think you're definitely getting better at keeping a lower profile. You have the whole unpredictable killer with no connection between your victims thing down, now if we can just get better at hiding the bodies you'll be like a french Jack the Ripper. It will be delightful. Though I do have to wonder about how this will help us win the Grail War.”

“Hurm? War huh? I was... I was gonna win... right?” Rosa stopped suddenly, like her feet no longer wanted to follow her body, the contradictory momentum causing her to topple over and tumble across the pavement.

Berserker rushed to their Master's side, trying to help the unstable woman to her feet. “Goodness Master are you alright? You don't normally lose your balance like that.”

Rosa climbed to her knees, her left hand over her scarred eye, the twisted wound pounding and pulsing in time with her accelerated heartbeat. She could feel it coming, worming its way back into the recesses of her mind. The warm, calming, loving energy, mixed with a tormenting, twisted guilt, as the voice of her lover spoke as if right next to her ear. “Rosa. Rosa my dear. We can't waste any more time. I want to see you again so badly. I know you want to be with me too.” She could feel him, as if he was right behind her, on her back, just out of sight. His voice always calmed her, but also twisted her stomach up into knots, making it so hard to think straight.

“Cor... Cornelius...” Rosa had started hyperventilating, her breath coming in short and pained bursts.

“Yes Rosa, that's right. I'm right here. Right here with you. You killed Boxtell for me didn't you?”

“Yes... yes. He's... Bastard. Bastard monster is dead.”

Berserker had seen fits like this before. The mention of some seemingly unconnected things would send Rosa into a sort of shock, and she would then spend several minutes talking to an invisible man whom no one besides Rosa could perceive. Berserker had only tried to interfere once, and Rosa had flown into a violent fit that didn't cease until her body had collapsed from exhaustion. They had learned it was best to let these little episodes play out to their natural conclusion.

Cornelius was still speaking to Rosa. “Yes you killed him. And then you killed him again and again.”

“He... hurt you. Hurt my Cornelius. Had to... Had to kill him. Bastard.” Tears flowed down Rosa's face as she spoke.

“You did, and I'm always grateful to you for avenging me like that. But there's still so much work to do. He's come back again. He's still trying to steal my treasure I left with you. You have to find him and kill him again I'm afraid.” His voice was able to calm Rosa, but simultaneously stoke the fires of her rage. Her back, pulsed and ached from the weight of him leaning on her.

“Yes. Kill him. Kill him as many times as I have to... Something... something else I'm supposed to do.”

“There is my dear. Something very important. Even more important than killing Boxtell. There are six other people you have to kill. I told you about them. They want to stop you.”

“Stop me?” Rosa's eyes widened with disbelief. Why would anyone want to stop her from getting back her love?

“Yes, they don't want to let you be reunited with me.”

“WHY!?” Rosa tore her hand from her face, blood dripping away from where her nails had dug into the scar as she screamed the question into the night air.

“Mayhaps they work with Boxtell. His cohorts or accomplices. Maybe they were also hired by the same man who hired him.”

Rosa ground her teeth together, blood running down her wounded face. “Him. He...” The hated name dying on her lips.

“Say his name Rosa. Say the name of the man responsible for my death. Say the name of the   
man who we will kill when we are finally reunited.”

Rosa's head rolled back, hanging at an unnatural angle as she stared into the starry sky and screamed, “Saint-Hermine!”


	23. The Juge d'Instruction, Maria III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long time since an update means a nice long update. Not the longest chapter I've posted to be sure, but a lengthy one nonetheless.

III.

Exhaustion had gotten the best of Louise and she passed the entire night in a deep, unbroken sleep. She awoke the following morning around nine to the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen below. It took her a few moments to remember where she was, and how the events of the night had brought her to Grimaud's home. She lay in the unfamiliar bed for a few minutes, piecing together everything that had happened. One of her enemies had clearly learned her location at the hotel, the attack was too directed and pinpoint to be the result of a sweeping search. As it stood she could not continue staying at that particular residence. She would have to return today, collect what of her belongings weren't stolen or destroyed and once again commence the search for a new place to stay. 

-"Master, I sense you are awake."- Louise was still adjusting to having Rider speak to her with the shared telepathic link. She was especially thrown off for him to do it so suddenly after she had only just awoken.

-"Yes, Rider, I am awake. Is something the matter?"- Louise was immediately tired again, the concern that it could be another enemy attack already draining her of the energy she had only just started to regain.

-"Nothing at all. It is just the Monsieur Grimaud has almost finished preparing breakfast, but seems insistent on not waking you. I would hate for you to come down to a cold breakfast and simply thought I would inform you myself."-

Louise smiled to herself. It felt like there was still some sort of distance between them, but she could feel the gap closing slowly. -"I appreciate the courtesy, Rider. I shall be down shortly."-

Louise dressed quickly before heading down the stairs at a much more conservative pace, lest she seem too uncouth in her eagerness to eat. As she arrived at the lower suite Louise saw Rider already seated at the dining table sipping a glass of red wine. She was curious what possible reason he might be able to offer for his self-indulgence. "Servants need no sleep, but a glass of wine in the early morning is something you simply must have?" 

"Needing something, and desiring the joy it brings, with all its nostalgic wonder, are two very different things Master." Rider raised the glass in a mocking salute to Louise as he spoke. "When I was alive I think I must have drank more wine than water. I'd forgotten the delightful taste and calming feeling that came with imbibing this wonderful beverage."

"So you were a day drunk, in other words." Grimaud launched his verbal assault on Rider from over his shoulder as he cooked, treating the insult as a cursory observation.

"Good morning Monsieur. I wanted to thank you again for allowing me to stay here last night. I also apologize for being so late to wake today." Louise ignored Rider's taken aback manner as she offered her host the morning greeting.

"No need for the second thanks or for the apology." Grimaud turned around to face Louise as he responded, the finished breakfast in his hands, the smell of the spinach, comte, and ham quiche immediately reminding Louise just how hungry she was. "I have only just now finished breakfast, and here you are right on time. As to your staying here, there is something I would like to discuss in that regard. But first, eat! I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you."

***

Louise shook hands with the auto-dealer as they finished signing all the paperwork for her purchase. With the keys in hand, she waited out in the main lot for her new motor scooter to be brought up to her. Rider, in spirit form, had accompanied her on the errand, and was eagerly awaiting the arrival of the vehicle. Though a Servant was brought into an era with all the knowledge they would need to operate competently, he still had no personal experience with motor bikes yet, and was excited that Louise might allow him some time with it. 

"I can't even see you, but I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no." Louise grinned as she chastised her companion. Along with learning to trust one another, Louise was attempting to develop a more positive rapport with her Servant.

-”Well that's hardly fair. I am a Rider after all, I would take excellent care of your new vehicle if you were to allow me its use. What do you need it for anyway?”-

“If I am to face other Masters in combat throughout Paris I will need to rely less on taxis, public transit, and the goodwill of Grimaud. Having my own means of transportation is crucial. And considering I need only transport myself I thought a car might be too large and inconvenient. A motor scooter is smaller, more maneuverable, and easier to take care of.” Rider was impressed with how much thought Louise had put into the decision. He had initially written her off as a poor planner, but was starting to become more confident in her abilities.

-”A sound plan Master. Bravo. Speaking of the goodwill of Grimaud...”-

“I think a bite to eat after this purchase sounds lovely. Won't you join me for it Rider?” Louise cut her Servant off before he could finish his inquiry, wanting to be more comfortable before she had such an important conversation with him.

A clerk rounded the corner with Louise's new bike, a Vespa Primavera 150 MY18. The gloss white paint, so new and untarnished, perfectly reflected Louise's excited face back at her. As much as she tried to down play her own emotions, it was difficult to not get excited at the prospect of her new purchase. The scooter was small and unassuming, which Louise preferred. Ali's Renault Vel Satis was indeed luxurious, but that also meant it caught the eye easily and was just as easy to recognize on later encounters. Louise figured the Holy Grail War was just as much about stealth and subterfuge as it was about combat, and she was not going to take any unnecessary risks.

“Thank you very much Monsieur. I think I can take it from here.” Louise stuffed her long braid underneath her jacket before donning her new helmet, goggles, and gloves. She was a natural on the swift vehicle, and despite its somewhat squirrely controls she had no problem driving it off the lot for the first time. Rider kept pace easily enough in spirit form, satisfied that his Master was just as much of a natural rider as himself. Aside from considering what hers and Rider's next move should be, Louise used the calm solitude of the ride to mull over everything that had happened that morning. Things were complicated enough with Grimaud, but what had happened when they had gone to retrieve her belongings from the hotel was eating at her almost as much.

Louise had been hoping to avoid any complications, and was sure that there was likely to be very little she could salvage, it being likely the enemy had raided as much of her resources as they were able. Unfortunately those hopes were not to pass. The moment she walked out Grimaud's door she was aware of the police presence outside the hotel. A few steps and she was next to one of the official vehicles parked in the narrow street, its blue lights flashing in the daylight lending an uncomfortable air to the whole scene. A few more steps and she could clearly see the investigators who were busily examining the window Rider had destroyed when he had made his impromptu exit. Just a few steps more and she had beheld the least welcome sight, Madame Juge d'Instruction Maria Badeaux. The Juge had the same exhausted look on her face Louise recognized from their last meeting. Maria, in her distinctive black coat, was without her coffee this time, but was instead taking long stressed drags on a cigarette which, judging by the pile of expended butts at her feet, was far from the first one.

As Louise approached, her movement caught Maria's attention. The perpetually tired city official rounded on Louise when she recognized her, and was face to face with the young mage faster than seemed natural. “You seem to have a real knack for trouble, Madame Saint-Hermine.” 

“Begging your pardon, Madame Juge, but I'm not sure I know what you mean.” Louise decided it would be safest to play dumb for now. She doubted that, despite Maria's investigative profession, the Juge was particularly good at reading her.

“What do I mean? Do you mean to tell me you were NOT in your hotel room between the hours of eleven o'clock at night and seven in the morning?” Maria was surprised at the idea that the proper little privileged daughter would deign to be out during what people of her upbringing would consider 'scandalous' hours.

“I apologize Madame, but I had a meeting that ran rather late and, given the hour, stayed with one of my associates at their own hotel.”

“Well it looks like you picked a pretty good night to do so.” Maria dropped the cigarette from her mouth and ground it into the pavement with her boot before instantly lighting another one.

“Has something happened?” Louise wanted to know what the police had figured out themselves. While they were too simple and ignorant to have picked up on any of the magical elements, it would be easiest to formulate her own story around their information.

“Looks like some sort of struggle occurred. We're still piecing together the details, but the one thing that is clear is that the altercation centered around your hotel room.”

“I'm sorry, Madame Badeaux, but I don't understand.” Louise did her best to produce a genuine looking shocked expression. Judging by the satisfied look on the Juge's face it had been convincing enough. 

Maria was always entertained to see bluebloods try to comprehend the idea that something bad could happen to them. “Well the entire door to your room was knocked off its hinges and laying in the hallway with several bullet-holes in it.” It was not difficult for Louise to look genuinely surprised at the more explicit details of the combat as she had been absent for it. “There were also several bullet holes throughout the hallway, as well as the destroyed window behind you.” Maria pointed to the smashed frame and broken glass as she spoke. “Still not sure what any of this means, but we're working on it. I'm glad you're here actually, I'd like you to come upstairs and take inventory of your belongings. That way we can find out if it was perhaps theft-motivated.”

“I'd be happy to be of whatever assistance I can, Madame.” Louise was always entertained watching self-assured people like Maria talk as though they have perfect understanding of a situation.

“Excellent. Follow me then.” Maria Badeaux let out a heavy sigh as she discarded her current cigarette and led Louise inside, ducking under several cordons of police tape as they went.

Louise had been unlucky with the presence of the authorities, but was fortunate to find that none of her belongings had been taken. It was also fortunate that she had taken more of her more conspicuously magical items with her when she had fled the night before, so there was no need to explain bones, gems, or a spellbook to the Juge.

Once the inventory was finished, Maria led Louise back outside. The moment they emerged back on the street a cigarette was in Maria's mouth once again. She puffed aggressively while leaning on her car's open door as she spoke to Louise. “I'm going to need the name of the hotel you stayed at with your associate. And I suppose you will want to once again find new accommodations. Try to call me immediately this time, yeah?”

“I apologize Madame, as I am not familiar with Paris I cannot quite recall the name of the hotel my friend is staying at. However, given recent events I think I shall contact them for its info and stay there myself. Having someone familiar nearby should make me feel more comfortable given these past few incidents. I will be sure to call you with that info as soon as I arrive.” Louise was realistically flustered from having to come up with excuses for her excuses, which served her well playing the part of the scared and bewildered girl from the countryside. Overall she considered it a fitting conclusion to what she felt had been a rather entertaining bout of leading the Juge on.

“See that you do. Do umm... do be careful Madame Saint-Hermine. Paris seems to have its worst set on you.”

Louise had quickly departed from the Rue Servandoni after that, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the suspicious Juge as possible. Though Louise was sure she had Maria fooled enough, she couldn't shake the feeling of those focused, shadowed eyes staring into her. It was as though, even if the Juge couldn't decipher the truth, she could still sense the lie. It was rare for Louise to be impressed by someone in the Juge's position. After thinking on for a bit, Louise disregarded it as a fluke, and was right back to having nothing but feelings of amusement at Maria's expense. A few more minutes traveling and she had arrived at the Vespa dealership and completed her purchase.

Worrying about the Juge wasn't going to accomplish much, and Louise knew that her and Rider had a far more important conversation they needed to have. -”Rider, I'm going to pull over and have lunch. Care to join me?”-

-”Lunch sounds like a fantastic idea Master.”- Rider was satisfied with the idea, if only because it meant Louise was done avoiding talking to him about Grimaud. 

Louise parked her new scooter on the side of the street, and leaving the vehicle behind, walked a block until she reached a promising cafe, The Golden Pestle. There were only two small wooden tables seated on the exterior of the quaint brick building, and both were already quite crowded with people. Louise entered and found the interior nearly empty by comparison. An energetic maitre' d welcomed her and quickly showed Louise to a table at the back of the restaurant. As the friendly woman left, Rider unceremoniously materialized in his casual clothing and took the seat opposite his Master.

The duo sat in silence for a few minutes as they contemplated the menu. Eventually the maitre' d came by and they ordered coffee and some pastries to accompany it. As they awaited the arrival of the food, Rider was the one to finally break the quiet. “I would ask if you are considering his offer, but I get the distinct feeling you have already chosen to accept.”

“And what matter is it if I have?” Louise had picked up a newspaper from a nearby wire rack and was using the publication as an excuse to avoid making eye-contact with Rider as they spoke. As her eyes passed over the pages she noted another attack similar to the one her and Camille had weathered. Between that, the revelation about Ali, and last night's battle, she was starting to feel cornered, and a touch desperate.

“I would have hoped you would want to discuss the pros and cons with me before arriving at your decision. This is not something to consider lightly.”

“Well we are discussing it now, and frankly I think it is in our best interest.” Louise paused momentarily as the coffee arrived, liking little to let other people be privy to the details of their conversation. “Grimaud has offered to let us stay with him as long as we are here in Paris.”

“And you do not consider accepting that offer to be a precarious proposal that may pose some possible problems for us pending our present predicament?”

Louise was frozen for a moment, the bewildering comment forcing her to finally make eye-contact, albeit confused eye-contact, with her agitated Servant.

“Now that I have your attention,” Rider fiddled with one of the creamer packets as he spoke, “I too appreciate when a terribly convenient opportunity falls in my lap, but I still like to consider the possible negatives. What if, for example, one of our enemies finds Grimaud's home. Now our beloved benefactor has become a liability in the ensuing fight.” Rider finally opened the creamer, but instead of pouring it directly into his beverage decided to take a sip from the small plastic cup. Louise could tell that, judging by the disgusted face he made right afterword, he was not impressed.

“I admit that if we are attacked in our garrison we may be putting Grimaud in harm's way, but that is why I want to propose an idea to you.” Louise had grown to care for the old man, and despite him being of a lower station, cared too much to want to see him hurt.

“Oho?” Rider stroked his chin in anticipation of Louise's next words. He liked that she was slowly becoming more ardent as a Master.

“We adopt a fully offensive strategy. We take the fight immediately and completely to any enemy the moment we locate them, or even as soon as we have an idea of where they may be operating.” Louise was developing some other ideas, but wanted to build up to them.

“Aggressive. I support that. But tell me Master, what leads you to this decision? And what leads you to believe it will work?” Rider was impressed, but still ever cautious. He wanted to be sure Louise was making an informed choice and not a compulsive one.

“I have considered several elements of our situation. One: you are a Rider. Despite who you are and the multiple talents you possess, you are first and foremost in this war a cavalryman. Your skill set is best fit to fighting on the move. We need to monopolize our advantages. My magical specialties are mostly in self-amplification so I too am able to sustain a more mobile combat style.” Louise paused once more as the food was brought over. She thanked the waitress and then continued. “Two: we do not know Paris that well.” Rider raised his hand to object, but Louise cut him off. “Neither of us knows modern Paris that well. While I'm sure there are some extremely advantageous locations for a Master and Servant duo to establish their base, we are not informed enough to utilize any of those. Instead we should set up a position of convenience as quickly as possible and start our search for the others before they can get too established.”

Rider couldn't resist a quiet clap as a form of applauding Louise's plan. “Very good Master. I daresay you'll live up to your own lofty impression yet. Anything else that should convince me of staying with Grimaud?” Rider already approved of staying with Grimaud at this point, but Louise was close to what he considered a breakthrough as his Master, he wanted to see her close it out for herself.

Louise was feeling burgeoned by Rider's support, and enthusiastically laid out her final point. “Grimaud knows who we are and what we are doing, and while I trust him to be true to his word about staying silent, there is always the possibility that he may say or do something that could compromise us. It is easier to keep an eye on him this way.” Excited or not, Louise was still hungry and couldn't stop herself from nibbling on a mill-feuille as she spoke. “Also, though I said that not knowing Paris is our greatest liability, we at least have a minor understanding of the Luxembourg neighborhood. If we operate out of Grimaud's home, it will be the closest thing we have to an advantage if the fight comes closer to us.” Having concluded her points, Louise retrieved her discarded paper and glanced at it as she ate and Rider spoke.

“Very well, I yield to you Master. You have proved the point quite completely. I will agree to staying with Grimaud. With that said though, if we are to launch a swift attack on our enemies, we will need to locate one quickly. Any ideas?” Rider began to partake of his own food while he waited for Louise's response. At this point he was completely comfortable letting Louise decide their plan of attack, which she was surely doing as her eyes darted between her phone and the paper. 

Louise was both worried and excited by what she read in the paper. It seemed like too much of a coincidence, but at the same time the details fit too perfectly. “I think I found our first lead.” Louise slapped the paper down on the center of the table. Her hand firmly pointing to an article about a disfigured and mutilated body that had been discovered in an alleyway just south of the Luxembourg.

“A grisly murder means what, exactly?”

“This is very close to the area that I was attacked by that pair I told you about.” Louise was hoping Rider had actually been paying attention.

“Of course. You were far too lucky to survive that, especially if the Servant was the Berserker as you suspect. What of it?” Rider was still unsure what Louise was getting at.

“The article Rider. This is thought to be part of a series of murders. And they all are happening in a relatively small area. She's here Rider. Our first enemy is operating right here in our own territory.”


	24. The Juge d'Instruction, Maria IV

IV.

“Why her?” Though his confidence in Louise’s planning was bolstered, Rider was still mildly concerned about the idea. His apprehension showed in the way he fiddled the diner's flatwear around on the table. “Surely there is also information on some of our other opponents. What about whoever attacked your sister and yourself on your first night in Paris?”

“They are worth chasing purely on the merit of the amount of collateral damage their methods caused, but I've only seen coverage of one other attack of the same style, so it would be harder to pin their location down.” Louise continued on, ready to sell her whole strategy to Rider. “We can narrow the Berserker duo down to a much smaller area.”

“And why not Archer? Certainly we owe them for causing us difficulty right from the beginning.” Rider didn't want to admit his wounded pride was the only driving force behind the suggestion.

“Again, impossible to know where to start searching for them. We would expend far too much energy and resources in our pursuit. Also, I have a feeling they are the type who will come to us.”

“And whoever attacked us last night is only just now starting to make their move.” Rider vetoed the target as an option himself, not even needing Louise's input to know it would be a fruitless pursuit.

“They still worry me though. They so immediately knew where we were. A dangerous opponent who we've hopefully evaded for now.”

“You have convinced me once more Master. We shall pursue Berserker and their Master. With any luck, our clashing with, and eventual defeat of them will draw out the next target.” Rider was excited at the prospect of more combat. “Any idea of how to narrow down the location of our elusive prey? The police have been unable to catch her, and they have far more resources at their disposal than we do.” Rider was sure he finally had Louise figured out. Aristocrat that she was, she still seemed more down to earth than the ones he remembered dealing with in life.

“More resources? Perhaps.” Louise leaned back in her chair, feeling very confident about the current streak she had going, and was not concerned with how much it was showing on her face. With the new details about the killer, Louise had found a perfect place to use one of her recently concocted strategies that was a bit more reckless than her usual fare. “But we have access to certain types of resources they don't. We also operate on a more personal set of rules.”

“What did you have in mind? I had you pinned as one of the lawful good sort.” Rider was incredibly curious where Louise was going with this idea. While he had noted her disregard for more common folk and laws in her treatment of the Juge, he hadn't considered it a concerning trait.

“Judging by what I saw, and by what is covered in this article, our mystery woman has something against adult men. A search online of some other articles about the string of murders proves it. And a look at the pictures of the victims shows that while they had little in common, they all had some sort of facial hair.”

“Master, while I'm flattered that you would want me to serve two different... integral parts of the plan, both as the decoy and as the assassin, her servant would surely sense me before anything could happen.” 

Louise gave Rider a very disapproving look before continuing. “I am aware of that Rider. You won't be the bait.”

“That phrasing implies that there will be some sort of bait though.” Rider was beginning to feel a little uneasy.

“Though it may not be full blown thought control or puppeteering magic, the Saint-Hermine family are capable practitioners of hypnosis.” Louise had the look of someone considering something trivial like a math equation as she spoke.

“Master.” Rider's unease increased as Louise spoke.

“We find a man on his own, the description is easy enough to fit, we don't even have to be that picky.”

“Master...”

“Put him in a hypnotic state, use him to lure her into the attack. And then when she appears-”

“Master!” Rider was standing, slamming his hand on the table before he fully realized it. There was an awkward silence as he became aware of his outburst. He surveyed the quiet restaurant, making uncomfortable eye contact with the startled Maitre' d. Rider offered her an apologetic nod before slowly taking his seat.

“Rider, do you care to explain yourself?” Louise was completely in shock at what she considered her Servant's unwarranted outburst.

“Master. Do you understand what you are proposing?”

“I am finding a solution to our problem.”

“You are suggesting that we put an innocent in harm's way. Did you not tell Grimaud that your goal was to not involve uninvolved bystanders? Just a minute ago you condemned one of our opponents for the wanton destruction and death that were the results of their own tactics.”

“This is different than that.” Louise took a defensive tone towards Rider's accusations. 

“Different how? Because it is you?”

“Yes, because it is me! A Saint-Hermine is of different standing, and unlike them, my intention-”

“Your intention is irrelevant.”

“Listen Rider. This is the quickest and most efficient manner for us to find our opponent.” Louise remembered her father had always taught that in the world of magic, efficiency was of utmost importance. “If it is so important to you, your job will be to remain in spirit form and intercept our target before she can bring the decoy any harm. The moment combat commences I will free him from the hypnosis and he can flee the scene as he pleases. She will be so distracted fighting us she won't have time to pursue him.” Louise realized that her apprehension about their current situation may have held greater sway over her decisions than she liked, but she wasn’t about to admit that weakness to Rider now. 

“Let me emphasize Master that I do not approve of this plan. However,” Rider gave Louise what was becoming a familiar stern look as he pressed his finger into the table, “I know that we are low on both time and options right now. I shall proceed with your plan. But I do so under duress. If there is any mistake, the blood is on your hands Master.” Rider had deferred to her already in regards to their next move, and as poorly as it sat with him, it was his job to follow and not to lead. 

“Rider, I am very serious about both this plan and winning the war. I will not permit any mistakes.”  
***

Dropping her cigarette out of her window before rolling it up, she let out a long, exhausted sigh that was becoming far too common an occurrence as of late. She had left the crime scene several hours earlier, trusting the normal officers and CSI agents to handle things, and parked on a mostly empty side street in the northern Luxembourg neighborhood. Forgoing her department issued phone, and personal cell, she pulled out an older model cell phone, remarkable only for the fact that it was an ancient flip style phone. She pulled up the only contact in the phone's list and dialed the number. The other end rang only once before being answered. There was a noise, like wind blowing through a thin metal airway, that acted as a sort of answer. 

“It's me. Put your Master on, I have an update.” She was itching for another cigarette, but didn't want to roll the window down and chance someone walking by hearing the conversation.

There was a moment of silence before a voice was heard on the other end. A woman who's voice held a natural air of command and authority answered. No matter how unfamiliar her surroundings, or calm the moment, this clout was an inseparable part of her being. “I know you don't have good news Juge.”

“Well you're correct there.“ Maria Badeaux pulled a smoke from the box, letting it sit unlit in her mouth as she spoke. “But I did still learn something.”

“Something I couldn't have?”

“Well none of your man's men came back. So all you know is that they failed. But I actually talked to her.”

There was a long moment of silence, tension boiling just beneath its surface. The woman on the phone regained her composure before speaking. “And? What did she say?”

“She's got some crazy story about staying with a business associate uptown. Its bullshit of course, but I had no way to call her on it.”

“What's the new address?” She was growing uneasy.

“She's craftier than you give her credit for. Didn't give it to me. Again, couldn't call her out on it.” Maria was enjoying how annoyed she was sure the Master was. Maria didn't know much about her, but she knew that this woman was not the type who took being outfoxed well.

“We have an agreement. You HAVE to find her. I have access to the information you need.”

“I'm well aware of that my oh-so-benevolent benefactor. You're gonna have to give me time though. She's being cautious.”

“I will widen the net. You keep searching on your end. I trust you won't let her slip away again.”

The line fell silent signaling Maria's dismissal. Unperturbed by the lack of courtesy, the Juge shrugged to herself, threw the phone into her bag, rolled the window back down and lit a fresh cigarette.


	25. The Illegitimate Mage, Rosa I

Chapter 7.  
The Illegitimate Mage, Rosa

I.

Gabriel felt extremely out-of-sorts, not quite sure of where he was going or why. Though the extremely active and excess-oriented Parisian nightlife did tend to have that effect on the young and reckless members of its community, and despite Gabriel's many flaws and inability to recognize when he was at his limit, this time felt altogether different. Yes, he had done a few tabs of acid along with some pills an unknown fellow handed him, and perhaps chased them with a half-dozen or so shots, but he had felt like his usual invincible self up to that point. Despite having been thrown out of the club for his violent and antagonizing behavior, Gabriel remembered it as an amicable parting of ways with his good evening companions. He had been on his way to another club he regarded as fond of his brand of lively and spirited hi-jinks when he'd met a young girl- no, that can't be right. There had been... Gabriel's mind was everywhere all at once.

There hadn't been a girl. He had just left the club and started walking. Where was he walking? There was something he was looking for. The young lady had told him- what young lady? Why did he think there was a woman involved? He hadn't yet run into a young woman in a strange military-like uniform. He was looking for a woman. Yeah, that was it. He was on the prowl for a pretty lady to spend the end of his night with. Gabriel stroked his poorly maintained and unevenly cut goatee as he continued on. Yeah, that was it, time to find a good girl fit for a good-looking guy like him.

Considering the teetering drunkenly pace Gabriel set, it wasn't hard for Louise to keep up. The hypnosis usually made people a little slower in their movements, but this man was also strung out on numerous substances. Gabriel's own questionable lifestyle had helped the spell hit him with full force on initial casting, but the other chemicals interfered with the spell as it was active, causing the target to float in and out of influence on occasion. Louise wasn't too worried about it as he was working so far, and any lucidity only lasted moments, her removal of her own existence from his memory had made a full break nearly impossible.

Gabriel had been an easy enough mark. Louise had traveled north a few miles, having read the nightlife of Paris was a little more active there, and found him being thrown out of Le Caveau de la Huchette, a somewhat popular late night spot. She decided to tail him a bit and make sure he was alone before confronting him a few blocks away on the Rue de la Harpe. He had been so out of his own head from everything he'd imbibed in the club that Louise didn't even have to pretend to initiate a conversation before she had him in her hypnotic grasp. From there she imprinted a description of Rosa in his mind and sent him walking. If he found her, Louise and Rider would spring their trap before any harm could befall the young man. If several hours passed without incident, Louise would free him from the hypnosis and leave him to wallow in the myriad hangovers drink, drug, and magic all collectively had in store for him.

-“Master this is ludicrous. This is far more north of where you met her before. There is no guarantee that she'll appear here. And this man is frankly embarrassing. He's clearly incapable of holding his drink, which as a true gentleman myself, I find utterly pitiful.”- Rider, in spirit form, was making a point of voicing his dissent in regards to the plan every few minutes. He was not one for silence at the best of times, and he felt that this was a situation he needed to be vocal about as much as possible.

Louise responded to this last outburst the same way she had responded to the few before it: Absolute silence. She was not in the mood to continue arguing what she considered a moot point, as well as not wanting to let Rider constantly pick the time and place for their arguments. She needed focus anyway, concentrated as she was on feeding strands of mana into Gabriel to help maintain his current state.

-”Very well. But I warn you, my patience for this farce wears thin...”- Rider had prepared more dissent to voice, but before he could, something caught the collectives of eyes of himself, Louise, and Gabriel.

Now on the Rue Hautefeuille, Gabriel found his gaze pointedly drawn towards a young woman walking the opposite direction on the other side of the street. She was attractive, sure, but hardly the type he usually went for. He preferred more club-looking girls, but this chick, with the long backless dress and opera gloves looked like she'd be more at home in some quiet sit-down restaurant than hitting the town with him. But something about the girl drew him towards her. He just felt that this was the kind of girl he was looking for. Not in a meaningful, metaphorical sense, but the girl he was looking for right now in this moment. He'd been told to, given instructions to find her. Why was he given instructions? Who was telling him to do things, telling him to find a specific girl especially? No, he needed to find her. He needed to talk to her. Tell her... something. He needed to get her attention. Had to find out something about her.

Gabriel, faster than he had moved in the meandering that had led up to this point, slid across the narrow street to bar the path of the young woman. She at first seemed to not notice the inebriated man now blocking her path, and tottered to the right to go around him. Gabriel, his thoughts still swimming and confused, but knowing he needed to speak with this woman said the first thing that popped into his mind. “Hey bébé, where you going?” Smooth as ever.

The woman made a sort of grumble before muttering under breath as a reply. “Name's not bébé...”

Gabriel positioned himself in her path more completely, and leaned down near her face. “Sorry bébé I couldn't quite hear ya down there, petite little thing. Wanna speak up?” Oh yeah, this was going perfectly, Gabriel wasn't going to be lonely tonight.

“My name.” She looked up revealing the twisted scar on her left eye to the reprobate. “My name. Isn't. Isn't bébé.”

Gabriel cocked his dilated unfocused eye in confusion. Why was she so upset? Things were going great. Chicks love when you call them pet names during first meetings. He was supposed to find her. That's what the woman had sa- that's what he was supposed to do. Why would the chick he was supposed to meet be so mad at him? “Eh? What's that bébé?”

“My name. The woman he loved. My name is ROSA!” She roared at him, her true unhinged nature now on display, her knife and pick immediately in her hands, her sad eyes burning a hole in the young man's chest. Just as suddenly as Rosa's temperament had shifted, so too had Berserker appeared at Gabriel's side. With a single swift motion the Servant scooped his head into the grip of their long gangling fingers. The momentum on the motion sent the young man careening down a nearby alleyway. In time with Gabriel's violent departure from the space he had only moments before occupied, the Master and Servant duo followed quickly behind.

Louise had little time to react, Berserker's appearance being as sudden as ever. -”Rider!”- Calling out mentally to her Servant she was running in pursuit of they quarry as quickly as she could.

-”I'm on them Master! You make sure to extricate the young man immediately. I'll keep the   
Servant busy.”- Rider shifted out of spirit form, and with a blast of supernatural speed, flew down the alleyway ahead of his Master. 

Rosa had Gabriel on the ground and was kicking him repeatedly in the stomach, each strike sending a strangled gasp of pain from the young clubber who was, at this point, quickly sobering up. Her weapons were drawn, but Rosa wasn't yet ready to kill him. The man she perceived as the reincarnated form of Boxtell needed to suffer. “Bastard! Monster bastard man! Kill you! Kill him! Killed him! Killed Cornelius! Monster!” The usual threats and insults rolled out of Rosa's crazed and enraged mouth. Berserker walked a tight circle around the scene, not wanting to interfere or participate, but wanting to make sure the young man had no means to escape.

“Hey, c'mon bébé... uugggh.” Gabriel coughed violently as he tried to speak. “What's, ergh, what's wrong? Why you so mad?”

“GRAAAAHHHH!” Rosa brought the pick down, her restraint breaking under the weight of Gabriel's ridiculous words, and drove the weapon through his shoulder. The sound of the metal popping between the joints was a sickly accompaniment to the violence on display. She delivered one more swift kick into Gabriel's stomach that sent him tumbling several feet away. Rosa took a pair of stumbling steps as she raised the knife up, its polished steel reflecting the illumination of the nearby streetlight.

There was the sound of clashing steel and Rosa watched her knife go clattering across the dusty concrete. Rider stood at the mouth of the alley with his pistol leveled at the unhinged Master, smoke wafting from the hot barrel. The delay provided by Rider's intervention was enough for Louise to arrive on the scene, herself armed with catalytic stones in hand. 

Louise, adopting her loftiest tone called out to Rosa, “Leave him be! That man is an innocent and has no part in the Grail War! You have no right or authority to end his life!”

Rider was aware of the irony inherent in Louise's statement, but decided now was not the best time to call her out on it.

“Well? Who is she? You know her? I don't know her. Who knows her? Does she know YOU Berserker?” Rosa echoed the same words she had said when the opposing Masters had first met. She seemed altogether uninterested in answering Louise's command, assuming she had even registered the proclamation in the first place.

“I do in fact know her. And you should as well, Master.” Berserker stroked the metal encasing their chin as they looked Louise up and down, an expression of surprise and admiration crossing the visible parts of their features.. “I don't believe it. The young mademoiselle we met a few days ago. Not only are you a mage, but judging by your declaration earlier and the gentleman in battle garb with pistol drawn next to you, you are in fact a Master in the Holy Grail War. Marvelous.” Berserker excitedly shook Rosa's shoulder. “Master this is one of them!”

“Hwat's that?” Rosa stood with one foot lightly pushing on the pick lodged in Gabriel's shoulder, still more interested in her quarry than the people who had dared to interrupt her pursuit of violence.

“She's one of the six. The other Master's we must defeat in order to be victorious.” Berserker was trying their best to rouse Rosa's excitement in a more productive direction.

“Win?” As Rosa conversed with her Servant she absentmindedly pulled the pick out of Gabriel's shoulder, a trail of gore and a wet sucking sound accompanied the casual withdrawal of the instrument, before kicking him once more across the alley.

“Yes!”

“Win. I was gonna... win, the Grail?”

“Yes Master that's right. And with the Grail you can finally have your wish granted.” Berserker was very pleased that Rosa seemed to be finally on board.

“My... Wish... That's right, I- ugh, I had a... wish.” Rosa's hand shot up to her scarred eye as she crumpled to the ground, muttering her incoherent words. Of all the times for him to come. He never came when she was killing Boxtell. That was the important work he had given her, why would he interrupt that now? Unless...

“Rosa. Rosa, darling, thank you so much for all you do.” Rosa's back felt as though it were on fire as Cornelius spoke. “You've done very good killing Boxtell for me. But something more important is here now. It's one of the others. The others you need to kill. She's here now.”

“She is?” Rosa's reply came in labored, rasping notes.

“That's right. Now go. Go my love, kill her for me.” With these words Cornelius was gone once more, his phantom slithering back into the shadows to hide.

Louise and Rider exchange surprised and uncomfortable glances with one another, unsure of how to proceed with what they had originally thought would be a frantic battle, but had quickly devolved into another spectacle of an entirely different atmosphere. Berserker, noticing the confused expressions of their opponents called out to the enemy duo. 

“I do apologize for my Master's behavior, this sort of thing happens from time to time. Here, one moment.” Berserker held a finger up toward Louise and Rider to delay them as the masked Servant bent down to comfort their distressed Master. “Now now, my Master you must pull yourself together. We are in the middle of an important meeting and you really must present yourself accordingly. Come now, mother always taught me that we have to put away our sad emotions until our alone time. When we are before others we must be smiles and joviality. Even anger can be presented in a way that will not put a damper on the spirits of company.”

Rosa slowly retrieved her dropped pick as Berserker helped her to her feet. “I'm, sorry Berserker. It was just, Cornelius. He... he wanted to talk to me. I-” tears welled up in Rosa's eyes as she spoke, “I just miss him so much.”

“I know you do Master. And it will be just as I promised. We shall win the Grail War, and your wish to see him again shall be granted.”

Whether it was because of Louise losing focus, being as consumed by the strange turn of events as she was, or by the shock from the excruciating pain he had been victim to, Gabriel had regained some of his self-control and was attempting to take advantage of all the confusion to slither away from the woman who had only just recently been his tormentor. 

It seemed Gabriel's actions were all it took to bring Rosa fully back out of the inconvenient moment of clarity she was suffering, because the moment she perceived him attempting to escape she hurled the pick, lodging it deeply into Gabriel's back. The drunkard let out a shriek of pain and collapsed once more onto the ground as blood gushed from the new wound.

Louise took this continued attack on the civilian as the only signal she needed that battle was commenced. Wasting no time she charged and fired a trio of stones from her hand, bright beams of multi-colored destruction exploding from her grip towards Rosa. Before the attack could connect though, Berserker intercepted the magical projectiles, letting them explode against their own body with no visible damage. 

And then, just as suddenly as they had appeared to guard the attack, and just as immediately as they had materialized in front of Louise the first time they met, the masked Servant was once again only inches away from the young Saint-Hermine, having abruptly popped up, their fist pulled back to deliver what would undoubtedly be a crippling blow to her. Berserker was not the only one who could protect their Master though, and Rider was quick to follow their example, throwing his weight against the attacking Servant, the two of them went tumbling across the alley, lashing out at each other in a disordered Servant melee.

“Go, Master!” Rider called out from the confused combat, “The other Master! Defeat her now! Before she gets the civilian!”

Louise was immediately back on the offensive, having shaken off the shock of Berserker's bizarre ability to emerge out of nowhere. She had to keep her promise to Rider, and this was her opportunity to claim her first victory in the Grail War. Louise charged toward Rosa, firing catalytic stones off in time with every hurried step as she closed the distance. 

Rosa was on her guard now. She fled in the opposite direction Louise was charging from, leaping and rolling past the magical projectiles as they exploded around her. A quick final sliding dodge saw her reclaim the knife Rider had shot out of her hands. The moment the weapon was back in her grip, sickly black magic enveloped the blade. Rosa now turned to her attacker and began parrying the catalytic stones out of the air with the enchanted weapon. Louise was surprised that what she thought was an ordinary knife could deflect her attacks with such ease, and that Rosa could charge it with so much magical energy so quickly. She had little time to consider Rosa's magical capability though. The distance between the two mages was closing fast. Louise fired off a few more shots and then, knowing close combat was inevitable, focused her magic on forming her mana blade around her left arm. Rosa brandished her knife after knocking away the final ranged attack and then shot forward in a low run, driving straight toward Louise.

The Masters were moments from colliding as Louise leapt up and raised her arm, aiming to bring the blade down hard and shatter whatever defenses Rosa had. But just before her attack could connect, instead of meeting her in combat, Rosa slid across the ground, completely avoiding Louise and bee-lined for the injured civilian. Louise stumbled for a moment as she turned toward her retreating opponent. The time it took to redirect her magic from the blade on her left hand to her stones in her right was too great, and she was forced to watch helplessly as Rosa plunged the blade of her knife into the back of Gabriel's neck and out through his throat on the other side.


	26. The Illegitimate Mage, Rosa II

II.

“Go, Master!” Rider called out from the confused combat, “The other Master! Defeat her now! Before she gets the civilian!”

Rider tumbled, intertwined with Berserker for several seconds after having just stopped them from attacking his Master. Every attempt he made to draw his sword was met with his opponent slapping it back into the sheath, and Rider was forced into exchanging unarmed blows before the two finally separated. 

The two Servants stood apart for a moment, taking measure of one another. Rider hurt severely in all the places Berserker had managed to land a hit which, due to their increasingly apparent capability at fisticuffs, were quite numerous. He slowly placed his pistol back in its holster, closely watching his opponent's movements as he did. The whole time Berserker was watching him with a strange mixture or cordiality and aggression, as if at odds with themselves on how they wanted to behave. Though the disjointed Servant patiently watched Rider straighten himself out and put away his ranged weapon, the moment he reached for his sword they resumed the attack.

Rider was sure that even despite a Servant's capabilities of incredible movement, he had enough time to draw his blade before Berserker could interfere, but the moment his hand went to the hilt they were before him, their fist closing in on his face. Rider was forced to abandon drawing his blade, bringing both his hands up to block the attack. The unbridled force of Berserker's strength sent the cavalier exploding backwards into the wall behind him, the concrete of the street and building alike fracturing around the powerful attack.

Berserker charged forward for a follow-up attack, but had missed that when Rider brought his hands up to guard he had brought his pistols up with them. A report rang out from both barrels, the ball of one digging itself into Berserker's chest while the other ricocheted harmlessly off the metal mask. The one shot landing was enough to buy Rider time, however, and he delivered a powerful blow with the backside of both guns into the sides of Berserker's face, the ringing of the blows reverberating through the iron covering sent them spiraling past the other Servant, and they collided with the wall in their own turn.

Rider was not going to miss his opportunity and finally, without interruption, drew his favored weapon, the blade confidently poised in his hand, its tip threateningly aimed at his opponent. His opponent who was no longer where he left them.

Berserker came crashing down out of the sky from above, both hands locked together in a crushing attack. Rider had mostly cleared the landing sight, but was not quite quick enough, and the crippling blow, like an earthbound meteor, slammed with full force into his leg. The pain was immediate and intense, and Rider was brought fully to the ground by it. Berserker pressed the offensive, but Rider had blade in hand now, and crippled or not, had a defensive advantage. Each blow from Berserker's unarmed attacks was easily warded off by the threatening reach of Rider's sword, and several deep, bleeding gashes were carved into the attacking Servant's hands.

Out of frustration, or sensing that they really did hold the advantage despite the weapon, Berserker brought their hands together once more for a crushing blow. As they raised their joined hands over their head to bring the fatal attack down, Rider drove his sword forward, hoping to end them before that happened. The timing of both parties seemed off, as the joined fists came down, and the blade drove itself through the interlocking hands, piercing several fingers and slicing through both palms as it came out the other side. Rider's weapon was wedged violently into Berserker's hands and wouldn't come out.

Berserker used the moment to wrench the sword from Rider's grip. They raised the bleeding mass of flesh and steel up once more and brought it down in an identical fashion to before. Rider, despite his broken leg, rolled away from the attack. The force of the blow striking so close sent him tumbling away, a small broken crater now sat where he had only moments before been. 

Rider pulled himself up into a sitting position, drew his pistols, and took aim at his opponent. Berserker, with a sickly wet snap, wrenched their mutilated hands free of the sword, and tossed the weapon aside. They had resolved that, even if their hands were too damaged, they still had feet to stomp the other Servant with.


	27. The Illegitimate Mage, Rosa III

III.

As the knife plunged deep through Gabriel's neck Louise found herself completely dumbstruck. Of all the things she had calculated, she had not counted on Rosa simply ignoring her, the actual threat, in favor of the escaping civilian.

“There. Deserve worse. Monster.” Rosa spat on the corpse of the innocent clubber as she retrieved both weapons from the body. “But gotta kill you fast. Other people, other monsters to kill.” With this declaration Rosa turned back towards Louise, the faltering mage still looking at her with a mixture of confusion and fear. Swirling black energy poured into the pick in her right hand, and with a flick of her wrist the magical projectile was hurled towards Louise.

Louise's mind raced, she was still coming to grips with Gabriel's death, with her failure, with Rosa's madness, but now there was imminent danger. Her frantic mind reacted too slowly, she brought her hands up to form a barrier, the purple magic swirled into form, but it was too late, the paper-thin shield she crafted was only enough to slow the deadly projectile, and at least stop its impact from being lethal. 

For a moment, all Louise saw was blackness. A piercing, burning pain radiated through her whole body, her right eye nothing more than a jumbled collection of different forms of pain.

“EeeeuuuAAAAUUGGGHHH!” Louise let out an anguished scream as all the different feelings of pain rolled into one and her body fully registered what had happened. The pick stood for a moment on its own, lodged as it was in Louise's eye-socket, before it finally dropped to the ground in front of her.

Rosa paid no heed to Louise's distress and, brandishing her knife, made to charge forward and end the young mage completely. She found her forward movement arrested however. Blue, glowing magic sigils raced all around her from the mouth of the alleyway, lines of blue energy zipping along and covering every surface, even forming a sort of net in the sky above the enclosed road. Some of these blue lines formed tendrils that wrapped themselves around Rosa's legs, holding her in place.

Both Servants, thinking the other distracted, resumed their attack; Rider in firing his pistols, Berserker in charging forward to stomp him into the ground. Before either attack could connect though, there was the sound like the lashing of a whip, and a white beam of light snapped both bullets out of the air, and another flash of light sliced the air in front of Berserker, halting their advance. The snapping sound happened again and Lord Wilmore was standing between the two battling Servants. His deep blue cape was gone, and the solemn green suit jacket was also abandoned. He wore a vest that still matched the mossy green of the suit, but unlike the austere outerwear, it featured swirling golden patterns across it. The shirt beneath was a simple white silken affair, a light glow permeated from the smooth material despite the low-lighting. In his grip he held a long thin dueling sword, whose intricate, swirling hand guard had an array of precious stones inlaid across its sweeping length. The blade was straight, and though it featured only a subtle sharpness along its length, the piercing capability of its tip was extraordinary. With one hand behind his back, and the other holding the blade close to his chest and erect in front of him, the Lord cast judgmental glances on both the combatants before him.

“A pity, I was somewhat hoping to kill you both at once and save myself some trouble later on.” Lord Wilmore's words carried the same condescension as his look.

“Now now, Lord we didn't come here for that sort of thing, we're here to help.” Ali stepped into the alleyway as he spoke, the last bits of the magic barrier sealing the entrance behind him.

“A... Ali?” Louise stammered out the young man's name as he appeared. Her state was equally dazed and bewildered by his appearance as it was by the tremendous amount of pain she was in.

“Louise.” Ali's face was a mixture of affection and pity as he addressed the injured mage. “I apologize for interrupting, but I have been meaning to speak with you, and though my original intention was to do so alone,” at this point Ali gestured in Lord Wilmore's direction, the swordsman still keeping a close eye on the confused, but aggressive Berserker, “when I saw how things were progressing for you I felt inclined to intervene and insisted on bringing my associate along-”

“Oh enough of this farce!” Rider suddenly called out, hundreds of things swirling in his mind at once, most of them sources of rage, “We know he's a Servant!”

Ali stumbled for a moment, his concentration broken from how he was attempting to orchestrate the situation. “Ahem, yes I suppose it has gone far enough. Lord Wilmore is my Servant, and I his Master. I apologize for keeping this from you, Louise.” Ali offered his hand to Louise by way of apology.

“Ali. This is hardly the time!” Louise mustered her strength through the injury to yell a warning to Ali as she saw Rosa cutting the magical bindings from her legs. Beyond the immediate danger, Louise had too many other forms of agitation on her mind to feel like entertaining Ali's attempts at chivalry.

Along with using her knife, Rosa was assisted in removing the magical bindings by what appeared to be black flower petals flowing out of her body, their thin forms effortlessly severing the strands of magic binding her in place.

“I must thank both of you for your time.” Berserker spared the effort to bow to both Rider and Wilmore as they spoke. “But it appears my Master requires my aide. I bid you both au revoire.” As suddenly as every other movement they made, Berserker was by Rosa's side, helping, despite their wounded hands, to tear at the magic binding their Master.

“No, I don't think I want escape to be that easy.” Ali, with a wave of his hand, sent a whole host of new threads firing out from the barrier's surface towards Rosa and Berserker. Berserker, not wanting their Master to be ensnared again, threw themselves into the path of the arresting threads, every single one ensnaring them, and twisting their limbs askew. “Lord Wilmore. The Servant.” With another wave of his hand, Ali issued the command as if it were the most trivial of matters.

Lord Wilmore gave Rider one last patronizing glance before charging toward the target specified by Ali. Wilmore, wasting no effort, drove the deadly saber straight at Berserker's heart. However he found himself intercepted by Rosa who, using the time bought by Berserker blocking the barrier, had finished freeing herself. “BASTARD!” She roared as she began dueling the Servant.

Lord Wilmore offered attack after attack, but his skillful strikes were all parried by Rosa's knife, now more black magical energy than material blade, its size and energy growing with her rage. The ethereal petals that had been her liberators had not ceased dancing around her and, as the duel went on, had gathered into a giant tulip shaped mass behind her. “Die, Monster!” With a maddened shout that acted as the command word, black bursts of destructive energy lanced out of the flower behind her, and became a deadly rain of projectiles that rained down on the opposing Servant. Lord Wilmore tried his best to dodge or parry the onslaught, but the attacks were too numerous, and more and more were piercing and burning at his form.

Rider, though conflicted on if it was the right thing to do, raised his pistols and fired on Rosa, coming to the aid of Lord Wilmore. A fusillade of bullets all screamed into Rosa, however instead of bloody wounds and bullet-holes, the only effect seemed to be that the projectiles were swallowed by the black energy that was quickly enveloping her whole form. Though not damaging, the opposing hail of projectiles was enough to distract Rosa, and she ceased her assault on Wilmore to inspect what was audacious enough to attack her.

Rider capitalized on Rosa's perplexed state, rushing as fast as he could to his wounded Master's side to protect her, his own damaged leg making it a painful action. Rosa, her eyes empty and lacking their usual shine of sadness, locked on to the impertinent Servant and, carried on wings of burning black magic, sailed across the alleyway towards him. The cavalier raised his sword to block the incoming attack and protect his Master, but Rosa's blazing, magic-clad form overshadowed his current weakened state, and the collision sent him ricocheting around the magical barrier.

“Rider!” Louise called out to her Servant as he was batted away from her. Turning to the creature that was beginning to look less and less human by the moment, Louise, unsure of what else to do, raised her hand, attempting to force her mana blade into shape. “Stop this, please.” She was too weak, and instead of her usual blade, was barely able to manage a sort of mitten of magical energy wrapping itself around her hand. Rosa brought her own hand down, black petals pouring from her open palm. Louise tried to intercept what she could only assume was an attack, but her own purple magic was shattered and her hand was engulfed in Rosa's burning energy. 

There was a moment, where Louise felt the surprisingly soft touch of Rosa's hand as they made contact. The moment passed and Louise found herself, her mind, her consciousness, something, pulled from her body, sucked into the mind of Rosa, joined by the churning uncontrollable magic she was exuding. Louise, through the momentary connection, could feel Rosa's screaming, searing magic circuits, or more accurately, the magic circuits inside her, pulsing and stinging their vessel. The mental connection lasted only a moment before all of Louise's senses were engulfed by the caustic, scorching pain her hand was enveloped in, her flesh peeling and popping from the extreme heat of Rosa's unchecked magic.

“Dammit Wilmore, Stop her!” Ali cried out to his Servant.

Wilmore, with a sigh, charged the radiant form of Rosa. The unexpected mental contact with Louise was all it took for her guard to drop, and an attack finally hit home as the Servant drove his saber through her stomach. 

“Hah? Eugh!” There was a moment of confusion as Rosa's fractured mind processed that she has been wounded, before she cried out in pain. The wound, pouring blood and black ooze equally, sent Rosa reeling back from her attacker, and she released Louise's left hand, now burnt and scarred.

“MASTER!” Berserker, still entangled in Ali's barrier, called out to their deranged partner. “I know you can hear me, I know you're in there! That's enough. You're pushing the Tulip too far! We have to leave! Do you understand me? Come back to me, my Master, my friend!”

Deep as she was in the abyss of her own magic, Berserker's words were enough to bring Rosa to the surface. Taking a moment to send a blast of magic at Wilmore, she flew over to where her Servant was ensnared and using her knife and the swirling petals, made quick work of the binds holding them. Now that her consciousness was returning though, her power was waning, and she almost immediately collapsed into Berserker's arms. With one last effort she sent a final wave of petals crashing into the barrier's ceiling, and shattered the protective magic.

“No! Lord Wilmore, stop them!” Ali's command was too late, and Berserker was gone, having vanished through the breach in the barrier. “...Curses,” he muttered. Not wanting to focus on the disappointment of the escaped enemy, Ali turned his attention to the injured Louise, collapsed on the pavement, barely holding on to consciousness. He slowly approached her, a look of concern in his eyes. As he knelt down to help her up, his hand inches from her, the report of a pistol going off rang throughout the alleyway.

Rider, in a stance somewhere between crouching and standing, held his smoking pistol in one hand, aimed toward the sky where he had fired the warning shot, his other hand clutching his sword, attempting to hold it up in a threatening manner. “Do not... lay... a finger on... my Master.” He was weak and injured, and the mana coming from Louise was barely enough to sustain him. He would not admit it out loud, but he had no way to actually come to Louise's aid if Ali did plan on hurting her.

“You cretin.” Lord Wilmore, slicing his sword menacingly in the air a few times, brought it up in a threatening manner aimed at Rider. “You are hardly in any position to be giving orders.”

“That's enough out of both of you.” Ali, though usually docile in his Servant's presence, was in this moment quick to take command. “Lord Wilmore, your sword.” The proud familiar kept his blade up despite Ali's protestation. “I said put it down, Servant!” With more force, and more aplomb than he had exuded before, Ali issued the command a second time. Lord Wilmore, taken aback by this sudden resolution, lowered his blade.

“Rider, you have my utmost assurance that I am not going to hurt her. If I wanted her dead I would have let that creature finish its work.”

“Ah, then you aim to put us in your debt eh?” Rider did not yet lower his weapons, despite his failing strength. “Make us dance to your tune?”

Ali opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak he was cut off by an unexpected source. “...Rider.... it's alright.” Louise, her one good eye barely open, reached toward her Servant with her wounded hand. “Let Ali... help...” The last thing Louise heard as she lapsed fully into unconsciousness was Rider and Ali both calling out to her.

***

“Following the self-styled playboy was a fantastic idea, Master.” It was impossible for Assassin to ever fully disguise the sadistic notes that leaked into her speech like so much venom. “So what now? Do we swoop in and finish the job? I would love to finish the little girl myself. Though we'll have to heal her up a bit, some play time beforehand would make it all the better.”

Mordaunt had gotten a decent view of the melee from the vantage point of the roof-top overlooking the alleyway. The Immeuble Hennebique building was taller than most of the surrounding structures, and this, coupled with the terraced garden on its rooftop, allowed the mercenary to overlook the entire alleyway, and adjoining street, without being easily spotted by the combatants below. 

“You're sure your presence concealment is strong enough? Don't want that unknown Servant detecting us. Troublesome.” Mordaunt's reply to Assassin was to ignore her comment completely.

“There is no need to be so worried Master. No one will ever know I'm there until I want them too.”

“Good.” Mordaunt began packing up the scoped rifle and observation equipment he had set up. “We hold off for now.”

“Pardon, Master?”

“Two Servants and what appears to be a capable enough Master. Even with the Rider injured, too many unknowns. No need to pick a fight that we have no guarantee on winning.” Mordaunt zipped closed his weapons case and stood to leave. “We got what we came here for, information. We follow the Master back to his hideout, and continue probing it for weaknesses.”

Assassin watched the back of her departing Master as she clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Methodical. Perhaps not my preferred style of methodical, but effective, I'm sure. I enjoy a nice drawn out despair, but this just feels like it lacks the proper glamour compared to slaughtering them now. But so be it.”


	28. The Dreamer, Louise I

Chapter 8.  
The Dreamer, Louise

I.

A sweet, wonderful perfume caressed Louise's senses, lifting her spirit, and calming her nerves. The scent was a tranquilizing mixture of honey, sweet floral pollen, and the nostalgic feeling of a summer day spent in a small cottage in eastern Holland, a feeling that was strange for it was one Louise had never known.

A beautiful, sweeping field of tulips stretched out around her in every direction, the world seeming to curve sharply out of view suddenly as the radiant rainbow vision of the flowers fell away into the infinite void, and the bright blue sky of a cloudless day erupted up overhead from the same skewed horizon. Every possible color of tulip was stretched out in tightly packed fields of splendor around her; dark and enchanting violet in a ring close by, vibrant and joyous yellow, a classic and beloved strain was beyond that, and radiant reds, pinks, and blues picked out in spots throughout the arranged growths. Louise, wearing a white sun dress she did not own or recognize, found herself overcome with joy and comfort at the succoring sensations, and could not help but to let herself dance through the bright bouquet around her.

As she lost herself in the euphoria of her splendid surroundings, Louise came upon a disturbing new tendency amongst the multitudinous flowers. Many of them were starting to wilt and die, their colors fading to a sickly and pale gray, as if something was sapping their essence away. She continued on, concerned as the world spun quickly beneath her feet, more and more of the field falling away to decay and ruin. Slowly the source of the blight came into view: a massive, pitch black tulip, taller than Louise herself, stood at the center of a ring of desolation, as if absorbing the very life of the other flowers into itself. Its sickly aura permeated through the air, a visible green energy creeping out from the destructive bloom.

Louise, driven by impulses she did not understand, dug vigorously at the base of the black tulip, wanting to remove the deadly invader from the world before it could absorb any more victims into its baleful, selfish being. Mounds of soil and decaying flowers came away in Louise's filthy hands as she attacked the dirt. Suddenly some of the root system came into view, and Louise, burgeoned by what she perceived as impending success, dug with yet greater fervor despite her hands being bloody and blistered. 

As she dug further and further, her progress accelerating from only a few feet, to being suddenly dozens down, her hand grasped at something beneath the rancid soil. She pulled sharply on the obtrusion and a human hand came away in her grip. She flung the disgusting discovery away and dug more, but she met more and more decaying limbs: feet, hands, arms, and legs by the dozens barred her path. She tried to dig beyond the macabre obstacles, but she was soon pushing whole torsos, and heads aside, their features twisted into pained grimaces, the flesh of every part and piece melding and webbing together like some wretched imitation of a root system.

There was nothing Louise could do to remove the vile plant. Everywhere she looked, dozens, maybe even hundreds of bodies were twisted together to form the base of the profane flower. She sank to her grime and viscera covered knees, a feeling of defeat washing over her. She felt a presence to her right, but her vision on that side was blurred and dark, obscured as if by some black cloud. She turned her head and found herself looking into the eyes of Rosa, who wore a black dress that matched the style of the white one Louise had on. Rosa placed her hands on either side of Louise's face, the right one disappearing into the imperceptible cloud, and held the young mage in a light, but loving embrace. She gave Louise a slight reassuring smile, her eyes shining without their normal sadness, before releasing Louise and beginning to dig at the deathly root system herself. 

As Rosa dug, the roots seemed to reach out to greet her, the myriad hands and broken limbs embracing her and pulling the young girl in. The bud of the flower itself bent down form the surface, and let petals slowly rain down onto her, each one slipping under her flesh and into her body, the sickly green aura pouring into her. She turned to Louise one last time and opened her mouth to speak.

“Help.”

Louise awoke, all of her senses trying to come back online, but doing so sluggishly and with great strain. Before she was able to visually perceive anything she was simply aware of the feeling of returning to the conscious world. The other sensation that dominated her lethargic faculties was pain, pain that radiated through every fiber of her being. Her head burned with an intense fire that felt concentrated around the right side of it. Her left arm was completely numb, and Louise could feel a heavy sensation of something wrapped around it, paralyzing what minimal movement it might have had access to. The rest of her body was wracked by sporadic surges of stabbing agony, and sore muscles that were too tired and over-extended to move, but pulsed with a constant miserable spasm.

As her vision returned, Louise found herself once again waking in an unfamiliar bed. The first thing she noticed was that she was not in the room she was borrowing from Grimaud. The room she now occupied was monumentally larger, but equally more barren than the more homely quarters of the photographer's quaint living space. The only pieces of furniture in the room were the large but simple bed Louise was laying in, the pure white satin sheets matching the sterile white color of the floor and walls, along with a small two-drawer bedside table, and a single chair in a corner of the room. Two of the walls were completely made of floor-to-ceiling windows, the one to Louise's right looking out over the streets of Paris, while the one directly in front of her afforded a view of a massive rooftop terrace and patio.

The second thing Louise noticed was that there was a strange black blur that was clouding her vision on the right side, obscuring details on that front. She brought her right hand up, difficult and pained as the motion was, and her fingers met a thick leather patch that covered the upper right quarter of her face where her eye was, or at least where it used to be.

“I see you're finally awake.” 

Louise recognized Rider's voice and turned her head to see him leaning against the wall of the needlessly large room, positioned next to the door that presumably led to the rest of the abode they found themselves in.

Rider continued after giving Louise a pained expression. “I don't know if twenty-six hours of sleep is too much or too little after the sort of night we had, but either way you've been gone for some time.”

Louise opened her mouth to speak, her voice frail and weak from everything that had happened. “Rider... I..”

“I am extremely weak right now, Master. Nearly all of your mana has been expended keeping yourself alive. I am absorbing just enough to allow me to stay here and watch over you.”

Louise used her hand to cover her one remaining eye, not wanting to see the look of shame and disappointment on Rider's face, and not wanting him to see the tears welling up in it. “I... I messed up. Didn't I, Rider?”

“That depends on which part you're talking about.” Rider did his best to pretend he couldn't sense the despair washing over his Master. “Was it a mistake to go after Berserker and Rosa first? No. That was the tactically sound decision to make. The decision to use the hypnotized decoy? I suppose that depends on your point of view. As far as a plan for drawing out our quarry it was perfect, but our morals held us to a standard that made our decoy a liability once combat started. So yes, I would say that in the end that ended up being a mistake. Rosa ended up being a much stronger opponent than I think anyone could have predicted, making the whole thing a mistake. If... that's how you approach it.”

Louise removed her hand from her eye as Rider completed his explanation and looked over her left arm. The entire limb was wrapped in heavy gauze and bandages, several splints preventing her from bending it. Rider noticed where Louise was looking.

“She burned you quite badly. Magical fire like that, it will take some time for the wounds to fully heal. But those wounds can heal at least.”

Louise opened her mouth to ask the meaning of his last words, but stopped as her hand once more went up to the patch on her face.

The duo sat in pensive, uneasy silence for several minutes, neither one sure of what to say to the other. Just as Louise opened her mouth to speak there was a light knock at the door. Rider immediately drew one of his pistols and placed himself behind where the door would open before he beckoned the visitor to come in.

The door opened and a self-assured step, matched by the awkward tap of an unneeded walking cane sounded as the visitor entered the room. The unknown closed the door behind him, and upon perceiving that Rider's pistol was aimed at him, dismissed the threat presented by the Servant.

“Oh there really is no need for that sort of thing.” Leo de Franchi waved his hand pompously as he spoke. “I come here as a friend, and ally, a confidant if you will. Do you really think your friend the imperious billionaire would have allowed my entry if I wasn't?” Leo offered a smug smile to Rider to punctuate his explanation.

Louise and Rider were both equally stunned by the visitor's confident and fearless demeanor, neither one sure of how to approach him.

“I see you still don't believe in me. That's fair. Here, I have proof.” Leo pulled a letter from his jacket pocket, a letter with a wax seal that looked very familiar to Louise. “I am Leo de Franchi, one half of the heir to the de Franchi mage bloodline. I hold in my hand a letter of order from the illustrious mage family to which the de Franchi owe fealty. The de Franchi name should, I hope be familiar to you. But failing that, I know the crest on the letter will be.”

Louise immediately recognized the seal of the Saint-Hermine family stamped on the letter in Leo's hand. She could only look at Leo in confusion as she raised herself up as much as her broken body would allow. Louise replied, having finally processed everything Leo had said. “I do, in fact, know the name de Franchi, monsieur.”

“Splendid! That saves me a whole mess of pointless introduction.” As Leo clapped his hands in satisfaction, his walking stick stayed perfectly upright where he had left it. “By all means lie back down, there is no need to get up on my account, injured as you are. It's good we are able to avoid that initial bit because I do unfortunately have some explaining to do.”

“Yes monsieur, as to why the de Franchi are here and what that letter of order entails.” Louise was wildly curious about Leo's company, but something about him unnerved and worried her almost as completely.

“Nothing simpler. The de Franchi family was given orders by the head of the Saint-Hermines, your father, to enter a participant in the Holy Grail War.” Louise and Rider both gave a start at the suddenness and gravity of the revelation, Rider put himself even more on guard. “Now now, I do not have my Servant with me. It was difficult enough gaining entry here by myself, there are myriad magical defenses upon this place. No, the bounded field around it will not even allow me to communicate with my Servant much less bring them in, as their presence is most unwelcome by our illustrious host.” Rider relaxed, though only a modicum. “There is more, our family was ordered to enter the Grail War and to provide assistance to the Saint-Hermine entry as an ally and enable their victory.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand, surely you are speaking with incomplete or outdated information, there are two of us from the Saint-Hermine participating in the Grail War, myself as well as my sister Camille.”

“I beg your pardon.” Leo looked a little hurt at the implication that he was operating incorrectly as he pulled the letter from the envelope. “It says within that the de Franchi are under strict orders to assist Louise Saint-Hermine in achieving her goal of securing victory in the Holy Grail War. I assure you mademoiselle that I am quite literate and have not misread my instructions.”

Louise sank back down into the bed, even more confused now than she had been when Leo had begun his elucidation. 

“Trust me I'm just as confused as you are. I only found out when we were on our way to Paris that you and your sister were both entered in the Grail War. I was very baffled at first when the letter did not name the blood daughter of the Saint-Hermine family, and became doubly befuddled when I found out it was not because she was not entering the competition. I was hoping you, mademoiselle, would be able to shed some light on the situation for me.” Though Leo's words asked Louise for an explanation, his tone communicated that he seemed to have already drawn his own conclusion.

Louise was incapable of offering Leo an answer immediately, her mind too occupied with the myriad questions, doubts, and concerns she dared not give voice to. Was there some reason her father doubted her capabilities? Did he think that this was the only way to give her a fighting chance against her sister or any of the other opponents? Was she being treated as the favored daughter to win the Grail? And if so, why her? Why not the blood daughter of the Saint-Hermine family? If one was favored to win, why enter both? What did Camille think of all this? Was Camille even aware of it?

As Louise silently sought for answers, Leo approached the bed. “Regardless, I am as I am ordered, at your disposal to assist with your task. Though, I must say, that by the looks of you I will have my work cut out for me.” Rider gave a start at the harsh and biting words, and the insult was enough to wake Louise from her reflection. “I mean that was what, your first real fight with a Servant and you both come out looking like this? In my opinion it bodes ill for what lies ahead.”

“Our second fight, monsieur.” Rider, his pride wounded by the affront to his combat capability, finally broke the silence he had maintained.

“No I stand by my statement. It was your first REAL fight. The fight with Archer was never fated to end in your defeat, regardless of how it did or could have concluded.”

Leo was having a serious effect on Louise and Rider, each of his revelations just as or more surprising than the one that came before it. Neither of them could speak as the implication of his latest words sank in.

“Archer is the de Franchi Servant, and the decision was made to let them travel around Paris before the Grail War started in earnest. When they reported having found you, Mademoiselle Saint-Hermine, summoning your Servant, well, the urge to have them test you out was impossible to ignore.” Leo offered another satisfied smile as he tore down what little confidence the pair had left. “Oh, before I go there's just one more thing.” Saying this, Leo lowered his head close to Louise, his mouth only centimeters from her ear. He continued on, in a low, threatening whisper. “One, why do you think your father has gone to such lengths to secure a Grail War victory if he doesn't even control the eventual wish the victor is entitled to? And two, know that the de Franchi are not slaves to anyone. We bide our time, and our efforts are not exhausted in the service of someone else. Before this Grail War ends you will have to seriously fight Archer, and it will not go as well as it did last time.”

Louise was too weak and overcome from everything Leo had said to offer any reply to his final threat, and could only sit, wallowing in her pain and confusion.

“Heh.” Leo sneered as he pulled back away from Louise. “Well, that's all I came here for. I wish you a speedy recovery Mademoiselle Saint-Hermine. Keep an eye out for us, we will always be nearby.”

Without any ceremony Leo snatched his erect cane from where it had been standing unattended, and left through the door by which he had entered, and was quickly gone from Louise and Rider's presence, the silence of the sterile room standing in stark contrast to the swirling emotions inside both its occupants. Louise wordlessly turned her back to Rider and let her exhausted mind fall back into the void of sleep, her broken body unable to support the strain of her racing mind.


End file.
